Rubbish
by belladonnacullen
Summary: Trash. Dirty. Filthy. Late nights. Early mornings. Finally open your eyes to see Edward staring back. It's hard to remember to take out the trash when you're a high-class hooker. Do you need help cleaning house? Let the garbage collector do it.
1. Monday's Pick Up

**A/N: Take what you want from this title, just don't take it too seriously... Words to _Garbage Truck_ are by Beck, not me... Enjoy! M**

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It's the sound that wakes me - the gentle rumble and clank. It cuts right through my pounding headache and fuzzy consciousness like a hot knife through butter. It's the garbage truck.

_Shit._

I've missed it the last three times.

Double shit and stinky piles of trash… all over my back patio. I _cannot_ miss garbage pick up again. With all those smells and hulking mounds, I'm scared to walk into my own backyard these days. Sometimes I need the backyard. Not as much as the bedroom or the bathroom. But there are guys that like a real roll in the hay. Well, there's no hay. There's overgrown grass, and in the summertime it gets dry and scratchy. That seems to fit the bill, though. And then they pay it... the bill. Right.

The garbage truck rumbles closer and I launch myself out of the bed. I squint and feel around for my bathrobe because the light coming through the cracks in the blinds only makes the pounding worse. It's relentless and painful, like I'm being hit on the head over and over with a sledgehammer… or an axe… or a cane… or a flogger with steel tips.

I try to remember why I've stopped remembering water and aspirin before bed, but that much mental energy is painful and I drop it. These days I just stumble through.

I clutch my robe closed and brush the hair out of my face as I trip down the steps. I nearly slip on a lace G-string, then a silver silk slip takes me by surprise. I pretended to be very carefree last night. I don't usually do the stairs. Occupational hazard.

I open the back door and my robe falls open. I'm assaulted by pinpricks of freezing cold on my naked skin. Fucking sleet. Of all the motherfucking things. Sleet. I scream in frustration, but the rumble of the truck is directly in front of the house. I have to hurry.

I grab the recycling bin in one hand and the garbage pail in the other and run. The truck's passing.

"Stop! Stop!"

But its engine continues to rumble down the road. And there's something else, too. Voices. Men's voices. At first I think maybe they're yelling back and forth to one another.

_Woo oh oh oh_

_I'll take you for a ride_

_On my garbage truck_

_Oh no!_

Singing? No wonder why they can't hear me shouting. Singing trash men. Jesus. I run faster, through the side gate, down the driveway.

"Stop!"

_I'll take you to the dump_

_'Cause you're my queen_

_Take you uptown_

_I'll show you the sights_

_You know you want to ride_

_On my garbage truck_

_Truck truck truck_

My hair is half freezing and half soaking, plastered to my face. And they're laughing and singing… in harmony. Two dirty men in reflective jumpsuits laughing and throwing garbage around at the crack of dawn.

I charge at them. "Stop! Stop you goddamned singing garbage slingers! Stop!"

Air breaks squeal and brake lights glow, and singing turns to silence… all except for the crunch of the trash compacter and the sound of sleet hitting the pavement.

Smiling faces turn in my direction. My bare feet slip on the icy pavement, so I slow to a walk, holding the pails out in front of me. I walk closer, the air becomes ripe, and those happy faces the garbage collectors are sporting change. Eyes cloud over, lips part.

One seems frozen, not surprising given the sleet.

The other cocks a crooked smile and begins a slow swagger in my direction.

"We only take the rubbish, Perky."

"What?" I demand.

"We're the trash men. We don't do recycling."

His eyes have settled somewhere below my face. I look down. Shit. I forgot all about the robe. I'm wet and it's cold and I'm… perky. And he hasn't paid for the honors. And aside from the goopy green smear on his cheek, he's kind of hot. And young. Way fucking young.

The cans clatter to the ground and I pull the edges of my robe closed vowing to never again use the tie from my robe as a tie for my bedpost. I have special ropes for that, and scarves, and bungee cords, and carabiners…

"Let me take that for you, Perky," he offers with a smirk. I noticed that the orange-gloved hand that grasps the trash can handle is very large. He's like a puppy. Young. Big hands. Big Feet. Adorable.

I forget to get angry that he's calling me perky. I'm proud that I can still earn that name and that they're all mine.

He has a way with throwing the trash. All in one fluid motion. And the takeout containers and yogurt containers and, shit, the condom wrappers, pour into the back of the truck.

He's walking back to me. His eyes have narrowed. I resist the urge to give him another peek.

"I'll take this back for you."

The other trash guy finally regains the ability to move and he waves at me, a shy smile on his face. The driver peeks out of the open window. "We don't have all day, Edward! Practice, you know."

Back at my driveway Edward the garbage collector places the garbage pale on the ground. "For you, Perky, for you I've got all day."

With a wink and another crooked smile he jogs back to the truck, hops on the back, and rides off into the sunrise, singing…

_I got a stereo_

_You just got to turn the knob_

_And baby we'll go_

_As far as we can_

_I'll be your garbage man_

_

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_**A/N: If you're looking for someone to blame for this story, look no further than FL95, the MoTU of my trashy universe. Seriously love that lady! M**


	2. Heading to the Depot

**EPOV**

She was like my trash can queen: naked and wet, with a garbage can in one hand and a recycling can in the other. Like a garbage goddess. A garbage goddess named Perky. I'd like to get on my knees in front of her and worship… with my mouth over her smooth, wet snatch. The only thing better than seeing Perky all wet and naked would be to see her all wet and naked with my cum dripping from those hard nipples.

How the hell did she go through all of those condoms since last Thursday? We pick up the trash twice a week. Four days. Countless condoms. I had to get home to think about that. With my bottle of Skin So Soft. Think long and hard.

"We're going straight to practice, right?" Emmett yells over the noise of the truck.

Shit.

"We should all shower, don't you think?" I yell back.

"It's more authentic this way," he shrugs, which is hard to do when you're hanging onto the back of a garbage truck.

"Fuck. I guess."

No time for the garbage goddess named Perky today. The Trash Men have a show tonight. But at the moment, the screaming hordes of Garbage Fans don't seem as appealing as they once did. I just want some one on one time with Perky… and a condom or two.

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**A/N: About this fic: Short chapters that will be updated at least twice weekly for a month... Reviews? Yes, Please. **

**Find me on facebook: http : /www . facebook . com/belladonna . cullen1, or on Twitter: BellaDCullen**

**Next post Thursday! xxx, M**


	3. Thursday's Pick Up

**A/N: The song_ Trash_ is by Suede, not me...**

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**Thursday's Pick Up**

**BPOV**

Rumbling. Clanking. Men harmonizing.

_Shit_! Not again.

I jump to a sitting position and my head immediately feels like it's being squeezed in a vice.

"Ouch!"

_But we're trash, you and me,_

_We're the litter on the breeze,_

_We're the lovers on the streets,_

_Just trash, me and you…_

I'm fucking hopeless when it comes to the trash. I barely managed to take out one trashcan-full out on Monday, but there's still the backlog of garbage bags littering the back patio.

"What is it, baby?"

What. The. _Fuck_?

A pale, doughy hand reaches for my perky breast and I knock it away, horrified. No one spends the night here, and Newton did not pay for the GFE.

_Shit! _

Shitty man in my bed and piles of trash on the patio shit!

The singing gets louder. My head pounds harder. I try to remember how I could have let this guy sleep in this bed. With me.

_Maybe, maybe it's the things we say,_

_The words we've heard and the music we play,_

_Maybe it's our cheapness…_

"You're sweating all over," Newton mumbles, scooting closer.

"I have to get the fucking trash," I reply, jumping from the bed. Not looking back.

I run as fast as my pounding head will let me, down the steps, through the unused kitchen, out the back door. I throw bag after bag into the trashcan and sprint down the driveway. It's dry today, so it's easier to run. Not to mention that I've only picked up one bin this morning. Somehow I doubt that the guys that drive the recycling truck sing too. At the very least they'd sing about recycling, or Earth Day, or global warming, or something.

_But we're trash, you and me,_

_We're the litter on the breeze,_

_We're the lovers on the street…_

"Hey trash man!" I call from the driveway.

The truck lumbers on, but I immediately have Mr. Adorable's attention. Or Edward's attention, I guess. But Edward's an old man name, and not half as adorable as this guy is.

"Hey, Perky!" the trash man calls as he runs over to meet me. All that energy so early in the morning... I'm impressed. "You don't disappoint," he says, giving me a once over.

I'm dressed this morning. Almost. Well, more dressed than I was last time. Kind of... I'm wearing a seashell pink satin cami. No panties – a detail Mr. Adorable doesn't miss. But he's cool about it, no bug eyes or hands held over his face to preserve his righteous soul. Nope. He's just a guy that can openly appreciate a pretty little cooch without losing his shit… a hard commodity to come by in a guy that age.

I wonder how old he is, exactly.

I wonder what he's wearing under that dirty orange jumpsuit.

I'll wonder anything in order to blot out the pudgy white guy that I left in my bed. I try to remember the moment last night that I lost consciousness, but it's no fucking use. Blurry. Messy. Then waking up next to Michael Newton. _ Blech_. Mr. Adorable is much more desirable in every way.

"Would you take this, um, Edward?" I ask nicely, holding out the trash.

"It's my job, ma'am," he smirks. His enormous, grimy glove touches my hand. I should probably be repulsed. I should probably wash my hand when I get inside. But fuck, after Newton last night, his sticky glove is a turn on. Okay, it isn't just the glove. It's the way he looks at my lady parts.

I glance up at Mr. Adorable and he winks. It's that too. It's everything this guy does.

But… "_Ma'am_?" I ask, feigning indignation.

Mr. Adorable shrugs. "How about Ms. Perky?"

"Better," I concede. "I'm not your mom, you know."

Mr. Adorable motions between him and, well, my cooch. "Don't bring my mother into this, okay?" He's got a point. I don't want her here either.

"Sorry."

"Hey, you forgot this," comes a wheezing voice from behind me.

"Ugh," I groan.

Mr. Adorable's eyes go wide and his mouth twists into a frown as he peers over my shoulder. I turn around to see Newton in his checked boxers, his belly peeking out under the edge of his wife beater, holding out the recycling bucket. My hangovers are usually contained to the space between my ears, but I suddenly want to wretch.

"Mr. Adorable only takes the trash," I explain to Newton shaking my head like he should know better.

"I think you've got more rubbish than you can fit in this here can," I hear the trash man mumble as he begins to walk back to the truck. I make sure to watch him toss the trash into the back again.

His partner in crime, or um, his partner in trash, is frozen - just like last time. Staring again. Yep - at me. You'd think he'd never seen a naked vag before. He's cute, in an ape-like way. The things I could do to him. He wouldn't move for a week.

Mr. Adorable turns and smiles – like sunshine through a trashy haze. Scratch that. The things I could do to that guy. To Edward.

I pull down my cami and try to act decent. Newton takes the opportunity to pinch my ass.

_Hell to the fucking no!_ I've been off the clock for hours and I don't do exhibition. Except for trash men, it seems.

I spin around and deck Newton. A fist to the eye. Newton staggers backwards. "What the fuck, Isabella?"

I hear heavy footsteps pounding the pavement in my direction.

"Everything all right here, _Isabella_?" It's my trash man cum hero. (No, not _that_ definition of cum. Just because I'm a call girl… _sheesh_.) Anyway, he's right behind me. And he's using my name. Well, my stage name. Close enough. It still sends shivers down my spine. I'd back up and lean against him, except that his overalls are covered with muck.

"Everything's not even close to right, Edward," I reply. "But I think it's time I got my shit in order."

"And found a pair of pants," Mr. Adorable adds with a laugh.

I tug at my cami again. Newton tries to head back to the house with a hand held over his injured eye. But walking with one eye covered like that gets in the way of depth perception and he staggers right into a fence post.

"Ooff," he gasps.

I stifle a giggle. I shouldn't be mean. It's my own damn fault that he's still hanging around this morning.

"That guy?" the trash man asks.

I turn to face Mr. Adorable and gasp, because now we're really close. Close enough to see his stubble. Close enough to see that his eyes are gray-green and gorgeous. Close enough to see the little chip in his left front tooth. I put my hands on my hips, well aware that, with this move, I'm once again showing off my cooch.

"That guy what?"

"_That_'s the guy you used all those condoms on, Ms. Perky?"

"Newton!" I sputter. "He wishes. He doesn't have it in him. Not by a mile."

"Hmm," trash man mulls, his eyes running over me again.

"Edward!" the driver shouts. Mr. Adorable seems torn.

"See ya' later, garbage guy."

"I thought I was Mr. Adorable."

"You are," I concede, and Mr. Adorable smiles that weird, crooked, oddly beguiling smile of his.

"Pants are overrated, Ms. Perky," he offers before running back to the truck, jumping on the back, and riding off into the sunrise once again.

_Just trash, me and you,_

_It's in everything we do,_

_It's in everything we do..._

_

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_**A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews! Next update with the trash pick up on Monday... xxx, M**


	4. Monday's Pick Up, Week 2

**A/N: Lyrics to _Classy Girl_ are by CCB, not me...**

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**EPOV**

Jazz turns onto the street with the huge homes and big hedges and you better believe I'm on the lookout for Perky. Hot naked chicks are rare in this business. Sadly, douchebags in plaid boxers aren't so scarce. The fact that douchebags in plaid boxers can shack up with hot naked chicks is one of those mysteries that maybe I'll solve with age.

Perky The Garbage Goddess didn't like that douchebag the other morning, though; that much was obvious. That makes me smile. But it means there are other guys… other guys that Perky uses lots of condoms with. Well, at least she's into safe sex. Gotta protect that pretty little heart-shaped box of hers.

_Look I'm lookin' for a classy girl_

_But not a trashy girl_

_She diggin' me dawg (I'm classy)_

"Dude?"

_Chillin' at the club with my girls lookin' fly_

_When we walk up through the crowd_

_Heads are turning to the side_

"Dude!"

"Emmett?"

"What the hell, Edward? We don't do hip hop."

"_I _do. Sometimes. Just for the hell of it."

"Or just for… the nudist at 2405?"

Some people miss how perceptive Emmett can be.

I shrug. So what if I'm… rapping for Perky? About Perky… "Not everything's about _The Trash Men_, Emmett."

"Blasphemy!" he shouts good-naturedly over the sudden crunching of the trash compactor. Something full of liquid gets caught in the metal teeth, and with a loud pop, Emmett and I are sprayed with sour milk, or maybe a yogurt drink. It's hard to say. If it's yogurt, it's plain. Not my favorite.

"You've been out of it lately," Emmett shouts as we hop off the truck and start collecting cans.

I shrug again. It's nothing I'm willing to talk about.

"Check it out," Emmett calls with a nod as we work our way around a bend in the road. "Clothes!"

I turn around and, sure as hell, there's Perky stepping out of the driver's side of a silver Audi R8. She's wearing something tight, pink, short and sparkly. And silver heels. It's her legs that get me this time, though. For one reason or another, (her naked tits and twat, maybe) I've never really looked at her legs before. She's got hot legs. Long legs. Wrap them around my body kind of legs. Pressed against my chest with her feet over my shoulders kind of legs.

I've seen her mostly naked twice, but apparently it takes a sparkly dress and a car and a pair of legs to make me instantly hard. It's like I'm fifteen, or something. I try my best not to cum on the spot. Instead, I tuck Mr. Ed into the waistband of my boxer briefs and run over to her.

"Perky?"

"Adorable?" she asks without missing a beat. She looks tired, but she still runs her eyes over my body. I readjust myself, just cause.

"Late night?" I ask.

"Early morning?" she asks back with a nod to the truck.

"Always."

Her eyes settle on my crotch and then go wide. Yeah, Mr. Ed tends to do that to the chicks.

"A _busy_ early morning?" she asks.

I look down and feel my cheeks go instantly red.

"Yogurt," I explain.

"The first time I've heard that excuse," comes her reply.

I wipe at the crap on my pants, but in Perky's presence, the friction threatens to add another fluid to the mess I've got going on. I give up, harder than hard now... and embarrassed… and a little proud. Mr. Ed's no laughing matter.

The conversation stalls. I don't know what to say. I look around. No trash can in sight.

"You're bad at taking out the trash, you know, Perky?"

"Always," she replies with a sad smile and a shrug. And when she shrugs I think I can see just a hint of nipple. I want to reach out and readjust her dress, but I also want her boob to fall out. I want both. Maybe her boob could fall out and then I'd reach over to cover it.

I realize that I'm watching her boobs like they're a television set. Caught in the headlights. Perky places her hands on her hips.

I tear my eyes away from her tits. It's hard. I'm hard. Did I mention they're perky? "Is the can out back?" I ask.

"Um, yeah."

I jog down the long drive and slip through the side gate. The backyard is huge. Hills actually roll. But the grass is unkempt and weedy. I find the garbage and run back to the front of the house. The truck's already halfway down the road and I have to sprint to catch up.

Emmett throws a couple Glad Bags into the back. I know the brand because of the red drawstrings. It's my business, you know. "Thanks for joining us," he huffs.

"Dude, leave me alone, Emmett."

"More like leave you and the nudist alone."

"Jealous?" I laugh.

"Desperate?" he asks back.

He knows it's not true, though. As the frontman for _The Trash Men_, I'm never desperate for pussy. I'm just desperate for Perky's pussy, and anything else she might give me access to. _Huh._ Maybe that's what Emmett meant. He_ is_ perceptive.

I jog back to her house. She's watching. She stands with her long legs slightly parted and I let my eyes travel from her fuck-me heels, up her toned calves, to her thighs, to the edge of her sparkly dress.

"You look good with clothes," I offer as I hand her the can.

"Thanks," she says and does this subtle shimmy thing that shifts her dress just a tiny bit higher so that I can almost see... But then she laughs and shifts so that her thighs are pressed together, obscuring my view. It all goes down within a couple seconds, and I'm left nearly gasping.

"You're kind of awesome," I blurt out, and I immediately want to face palm my forehead. _Kind of awesome_?

Her laughter dies down and she smiles at me in a sad kind of way. "You don't even know me."

"Not yet?" It comes out like more of a question than I intend.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, garbage man."

I try to think of witty thing to say about heads, but there's not enough blood in my _top_ head at the moment, and I'm still embarrassed about the 'kind of awesome' thing. I look at my dirty work boots, instead.

"I thought I was Mr. Adorable."

"Oh, you are."

Perky's husky voice gives me the courage to look up. She takes the can, turns on her heels and does that shimmy thing again so I can watch the rounded edges of her plump little ass cheeks as she strides up the drive.

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**A/N: She'd have to wear clothes sometime. xxx, M**


	5. Sigh

**BPOV**

Amateurs take note: it's easy to strip when you're only wearing one article of clothing.

I leave my dress on the bathroom floor.

The hot, hard spray against my overworked muscles feels amazing. So does the down comforter against my naked skin.

I snuggle in.

Laurent's bitch session about Newton's black eye fades from my consciousness. So does the party I worked as my punishment.

But I can't get the image of a yogurt-covered cock and overeager green-gray eyes out of my head. I don't want to.

_He_ said I was kind of awesome.


	6. Dirty Daydreaming

**EPOV**

I step out of the shower and throw myself onto my bed, still pissed about Jasper's lecture on how I held up the route by talking to Perky. Still pissed at myself, too.

Seriously, am I fifteen?

Perky The Garbage Goddess is the hottest woman I've ever spoken to, and I'd give my right nut to just palm her pretty tits… but what the hell do I say?

_You're kind of awesome. _

I groan and hide my head under the pillow.

What I should have said: "So I'm kind of young, and I'm your trash guy, but it doesn't change the things I'd like to do to that fine body of yours, if you'd just let me."

xXxXx

_I watch myself say those words in my mind. I watch her pull me into her house. I watch her tug down the zipper on my overalls. I'm not wearing anything else. She's glad. So am I._

"_You're so dirty," she purrs._

"_I _am_ the trash man," I reply._

"_I like the way you pick up the trash," she says, fondling my biceps._

"_I like your can," I reply as grab her sweet ass in my hands and lift her off the ground._

xXxXx

Maybe I'll try that next time.

Maybe that's too direct.

Maybe she doesn't mind directness.

Maybe, just maybe, she seemed a little sad after I told her she was kind of awesome.

Maybe I could say something that would make her a little happy, instead.

Maybe… _fuck it._ I've had three hours of sleep, ten hours of work, ten minutes of lecturing from Jasper, and now I have three days to come up with something better than, "You're kind of awesome."

I close my eyes and think about Perky's ass. Perky's tits. Perky's pretty little pussy.

I decide that any more thinking than that can wait. I'll figure out what I'm going to say to her… as soon as I can get the blood flowing back to my brain.

Thanks to Perky, I've run out of Skin So Soft. I go for Jergens instead.


	7. Pick Me Up, Let Me Down

**Lyrics to **_**Trash**_** are by The New York Dolls, not by me.**

**BPOV**

I jump out of the bed, instantly awake, instantly on edge, instantly… excited? I forgot the trash, again. _Yes! _

I run down the stairs hoping that I didn't miss the truck.

I realize that my head isn't pounding for the first time in weeks.

I've gone two nights without a drink. I've had two nights of being _kind of_ – strike that - two nights of being _completely_ awesome. Two nights where I've left men speechless, where I've been at the top of my game, where I've made bank. I'm two nights closer to paying off the Laurent's mortgage.

I sing and dance across the kitchen. I thrash my un-pounding head.

_Trash, go pick it up, take them lights away_

_Trash, go pick it up, don't take your life away_

_Trash, go pick it up, the doctor take my knife away_

_And please don't you ask me if I love you…_

Even though I know he'll be filthy, I'm glad that I showered before bed. I'm glad that I look _kind of_ _awesome_ with messy morning hair. So does he. Yep, so does he. We have that in common.

I give myself a once-over before I open the back door. Suddenly I have my doubts. I'm butt naked. I'm glad he thinks I'm awesome and all, but taking out the trash without a stitch of clothes on might be… over–the-top. I rummage through a drawer and come out with a never used apron.

Kinky? Yes.

Awesome? To be determined.

I pull it over my head and tie it around my waist. The front panel just barely conceals my nipples. The bow brushes against my ass in a pleasing way. _Nice._ I slip on a pair of heels. _Oh my_.

I walk out back, collect the trashcan, and listen for singing men and lumbering trucks.

_Nothing._

I sit on a deck chair and wait. I spread my legs and wait. My hand wanders as I wait. I think about Mr. Adorable as I wait.

They're really late.

It takes me ten whole minutes to figure it out.

Garbage pick up is tomorrow.


	8. Thursday's Pick Up, Week 2

**A/N: Lyrics to **_**Trash Day**_** are by Butch Walker, not me.**

**EPOV**

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_Trash Day in Beverly Hills_

_All the sad little mamas with their happy little pills_

_They flirt with the lawn boys as they clean out the pools_

_While the Mexican nannies take the children to school_

"Edward?"

"Yeah, Emmett?"

"You're singing like this is a serious ballad, dude."

Of course I am. We're turning down Perky's street and I'm stupid nervous. Two passes for Saturday's show are carefully wrapped in plastic in my pocket to keep them from getting covered in crud. You'd think I'd never asked out a girl before. I guess she's not a girl. A woman, maybe. Girl, woman, whatever – asking her out makes me nervous. Seriously nervous.

"I'm in a serious mood, Em," I explain as I hop off the back of the truck.

"Can you shake it by Saturday night, dude?" he shouts as he starts slinging trash. I don't answer. I don't know. Depends - on whether she comes; on whether she doesn't. Which will be worse? Shit. I don't know.

We round the bend to Perky's house. She's not outside and neither is her trashcan. I immediately want to blame Jasper for that. But even if we weren't retardedly early, people don't usually wait outside for their trash men. What the hell was I thinking? My plan was flawed from the start.

"Fuck," I shout in frustration, and I throw a metal can into the back of the truck as hard as I can. The compactor's teeth screech as it tries to digest what I've fed it.

"Dude!" Emmett yells. The truck's air brakes hiss and whine and red brake lights cut through the fog.

"What the hell is that?" Jazz shouts from the cab.

"Edward, man," Emmett mumbles as he wrestles tin from the metal teeth.

"I'll be right back," I call and make a break for Perky's house. It wasn't intentional, but now I have a couple minutes.

I use the big brass knocker and hope she's home and awake and willing to shoot the shit with her trash guy at five a.m. I can't ignore Emmett and Jasper cursing behind me, though, and I glance back. Jasper's climbed down from the cab. He hates when it comes to that shit. Practice later should be interesting. I'm in for it.

The front door clicks. I spin around.

The door's open and Perky's all sleepy smiles.

"Edward!"

No matter Jasper's pissy mood later - this is worth it.

Perky's wearing a dark blue silky robe. It's thin and I can tell by the way it clings to her that it's all she's wearing. It's chilly this morning. Perky…well, yeah, exactly. Anyway, she looks me over from head to toe and I stand taller. _All of me_ stands taller, ready for inspection. I'm pretty fucking certain that I get harder every time I see her.

"You're early," she yawns, peeking over my shoulder at the other two garbage collectors. "Problem with the truck?"

"Jasper, the task-master."

"What?" she asks, confused.

"We're ahead of schedule on purpose. The truck is cool, though. It'll take more than a metal bin to break Nessie."

"Break who?"

I nod towards the truck. "Nessie. You know… big, green… mysterious."

"The Loch Ness Monster?" Perky giggles.

"Yep, that's her name." I turn and point to the driver's side door where Jasper's had '_Nessie_' stenciled in script.

Bella laughs out loud and I like the sound of her laughter, _a lot_. It makes her less intimidating, more like a kid, or something. I have quick and stupid visions of the two of us playing like kids - running bases or freeze tag or monkey in the middle or something. We'd put Jasper in the middle, because short people shouldn't be hard-asses.

I start laughing too… at the fact that Jasper always makes sure we call Nessie 'she'. Laughing, because the only thing I can imagine Perky wearing to play monkey in the middle is lingerie: a silk robe without a tie… a see through tank top without panties... It doesn't take my mind long to jump to garters and black lace, or to a cute pair of boy shorts and a wifebeater. One of my wifebeaters.

Perky's voice jolts me back to the present. "Your smile is crooked, Mr. Adorable."

She's looking at my face hard. All of the sudden I kind of want to crawl into the back of the trash truck, because I've been standing right in front of her, fantasizing about her playing monkey in the middle in lingerie, of all fucking things. I'm an idiot.

"Seriously, it's like all twisted off to the side," she continues when I don't reply. Her dark purple fingernail is suddenly tracing my bottom lip. Multiplication tables keep me from coming.

"What's up with that?" she murmurs. Her finger keeps tracing. Her breath smells minty. Yeah, she's close enough that I can tell.

"Bell's Palsy when I was seventeen," I rasp, weak in the knees.

Her finger disappears. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay." I want her finger back.

"I didn't mean to…" her voice trails off. Her eyes search my face.

I think quickly - which is impressive, given my raging hard-on. "If you look close enough, the corner of my eye droops a little too," I explain.

It works. Her face comes closer and she stares into my eyes, blinking those long lashes of hers. Her fingertip brushes the corner of my eye. _Yes._

"Yes," she agrees in a near whisper. "I see."

I swallow. I want to touch her face too. Really, her _face_ is the least of it. I ball my dirty, gloved hands into fists, instead.

Her finger trails down my cheek to the corner of my mouth. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable just now," she half-purrs, half-whispers.

My dick _is_ uncomfortably hard. "A little," I admit.

Her smile disappears.

"No! Not about my face," I try to clarify without admitting that I was thinking with my cock. "I mean, you can say anything you want about my smile. Chicks like this shit." A flash her one of my best, just to demonstrate, but then I want to kick myself. I shouldn't be bringing up other chicks, right?

"I'm not surprised," she says. She's still close. Another step and her nipples would brush against my chest. But I'm covered in filth and she's better than that. It takes a lot, but I stand my ground.

"I have something for you," I tell her, suddenly remembering why I'm there. You know, besides my day job.

"Edward!" Emmett calls.

"For me?" she smiles.

"Yeah, uh," I dig my hands into my pocket and grab the plastic baggie. I pull it open and hold it out to her. "Take them," I instruct. "You get dirty if I touch 'em."

Now that I've said it out loud, though, maybe I don't mind so much the idea of her getting dirty.

Perky gives me a look likes she's been found out about something, but she dips her hand into the bag anyway, then holds the passes up to her face.

"_The Trash Men_?" she asks. Her smile's not crooked. It's wide and her teeth are straight and white. She looks between the passes and my face, then over my shoulder at Emmett and Jasper.

"Fuck! Edward! Now!" Jasper calls. I'm screwed and I know it.

"The task-master named Jasper?" she asks.

"Saturday night," I explain quickly. "It's our biggest show, like ever. I got you two, so you can bring a friend. Those babies will get you backstage and everything."

"And everything?" Perky chuckles. Her eyes are all lit up like when the sun shines into those big brown mud puddles outside the depot, but just as quickly the light is gone. "Saturday night?"

"Yeah."

"I can't."

"Edward!" Jasper honks the horn. The engine revs.

I'm suddenly desperate. "Why not?"

"I have work."

"We don't go on until like eleven."

"I don't think -"

Now's my chance; I've rehearsed this about two hundred and eleven times. "So listen, I know I'm kind of young, and I'm your trash guy, but it doesn't change the things I'd like to do to-, to-_gether_, with you, if you'd just let me. Say yes?" I changed it up a little. What can I say? Perky's inspirational.

But her smile is sad again. "I'm going to try. Really. Hard." Her eyes dip towards my dick. "To be there. Saturday night."

"Really?" I ask.

"Edward!" Jasper shouts.

"Really," she replies, and her smile isn't so sad anymore.

"Cool."

"Ed-fucking-ward!"

"You're being summoned, Mr. Adorable," she says. Her fingers brush my face again.

"I'll see you Saturday, Perky," I call as I run back down her drive.

"You didn't even pick up her trash," Jasper grumbles as I reach the truck.

"Eddie boy picked up something else," Emmett says with a clap to my back, and he breaks into the next stanza like we'd never stopped.

_Trash day in Atlanta, GA_

_I can hear the sanitary truck from 2 miles away_

_I've said everything that this town has to say_

_Won't you bring me your waste and let me throw them away__…_

_

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_

**A/N: I've had some questions... Will Perky and Adorable ever act more normal around each other? That would give away too much, wouldn't it? Will this be a full-length story? Well, it's not going to be 350,000 words like TPoL was. Expect short updates, coinciding with Perky and Adorable's interactions. But yes, there will be a beginning, middle and an end. **

**_Thanks for reading & reviewing and rec'ing! Until ? xxx, M_**


	9. The Trash Men

**A/N: Lyrics by The New York Dolls again...**

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**BPOV**

Amun is the son of an oil magnate in town for just one night. He was looking for an American girl and his father found me: the perfect gift for the boy who has everything.

Generally, 'American girl' means a girl that will wear a short skirt and no bra, a girl that will let you grope her in a restaurant and kiss her in a bar, maybe even fuck her in a corner somewhere. This is a loaded situation that could easily get out of hand, _if_ you don't know how to handle it. I do.

You see, American girls are also known for speaking their mind and taking control. With my short skirt, unfettered, yet perky, tits and my generous use of tongue, Amun is tied around my little finger in a matter of minutes. He'll be tied other places later. Before that can happen, though, we have a stop to make.

It only takes an open mouthed kiss and a flash of pink silk panties to get him to agree to go see _The Trash Men_. Unfortunately, Amun's flight was delayed and there's traffic. We're going to be really late.

I have to remind myself to stay focused on my job as I make out with Amun in the back of the limo. But it's hard. I'm ridiculously excited to see my Mr. Adorable on stage. He's just so goddamned… _adorable…_ and Amun has hairy hands. I give in to a glass of scotch. I made it four days. I had a good run.

When we arrive, the bar is packed to the gills. It's obvious that we'd be turned away if it weren't for Mr. Adorable's passes and my tits. Inside, there are women everywhere and they're all wearing T-shirts with big trashcan lids printed over their boobs, with the words 'Trash Fan' on the back in all caps.

Amun's eyes roam and I have the urge to tell him that he could have his way with most of them if he'd simply whisper his net worth in their ears. But his furry hand settles over my ass. I guess I don't blame him. He's got one night and I'm a sure thing. What's a few thousand dollars between, uh, business partners?

The girls start going crazy, screaming, yelling, and then falling into a chorus of "Trash, trash, trash, trash… trash, trash, trash, trash…." to that same tune you hear at baseball games. They're clapping and stomping in time, and I see some clutching the seams of their Trash Fan T's. I'm pretty sure they're poised to flash their tits. Adorable has fans - young, drunken, female fans. I don't know why I'm surprised. You'd have to be blind not to see his appeal.

Then The Trash Men walk out on stage to a roar of approval; at least I think all three of them are there. I can't say for sure because I only have eyes for Adorable. He's wearing a tight, old school Jane's Addiction T, low-slung dirty looking jeans and that infectious crooked smile. Bell's Palsy's never looked so good, I'm sure.

The audience around me screams and claps some more. Tits are flashed. I soon realize that I only made it in time for the encore and I'm inordinately disappointed. I'm pretty sure I need at least an hour to gaze at Mr. Adorable on stage, under the lights: his smile, his big hands picking up the guitar so easily…

I pull Amun to the designated VIP area so we're closer to my trash man. I clutch the railing. Amun slips his arm around my waist and I hardly notice.

"Thanks for having us back," Mr. Adorable mumbles into the mic. He smiles and I swoon. His hair falls into his eyes. Jasper the task-master taps out a rhythm with his drumsticks.

_Trash, go pick it up, take them lights away_

_Trash, go pick it up, don't take your life away_

_Trash, go pick it up, the doctor take my knife away_

_And please don't you ask me if I love you_

Oh my god! It's my favorite song about trash, _ever_, and Adorable's shouting, and he's confident and he can really play, and when he gets to the bridge he swings the guitar behind his back and grabs the mic and screams the lyrics, and so does everyone else in the place. Yep, me too. Me too.

_Trash, go pick it up, don't take your life away_

_Trash, pick it up, don't take my knife away_

_Oh trash, wow, wow, my sweet baby, wow, wow_

_Oh, oh, trash, wow, wow, you're the one!_

_Tttttttttrash, ..._

_Tttttttttrash, ..._

All too soon it's over. With a thank you and a wave the guys that pick up my trash twice a week jog off the stage. It's over for most of the girls in the audience. Poor schlubs. _ I_ have backstage passes.

I rush against the departing crowd, but a large hand grabs mine and holds me back.

"Where are we going?"

I completely forgot about Amun. Not a very professional move. I smile. I grab his belt loop with my free hand and raise my eyebrows. "I got us backstage passes, baby."

"There's only one backstage pass I'm interested in." His free hand finds its way under my skirt, over my ass. I'm startled. He has quite the handle on double entendre for a non-native speaker.

I take Amun's hand firmly in mine and slip it to my waist while I look him steadily in the eye. "Good things come to those who wait." My tone leaves no room for disagreement and he follows obediently as I make my way to the door off to the side of the stage.

I show the bouncer my pass; he looks at my tits instead. Amun clears his throat in a very manly manner. Chivalry is not dead.

Adorable's in a corner, sweaty and surrounded by girls. I cut through the crowd like I've got a serrated edge. His eyes catch mine and he starts pushing past his admirers until he's right in front of me. _God_, his sweat smells good.

"You were amazing!" I gush.

I don't have time to say anything else. Adorable wraps his arms around me in a tight, wet hug. My chest heaves against his, my face is pressed against his neck. I'm lost in his smell, coated in his sweat, and I want to inhale deeply and trap it inside my lungs, but he's holding me too tight for that. His arms are really fucking strong – Bell's Palsy be damned. I feel dizzy. He picks me off of my feet and swings me around.

I can't be too sure when my feet hit the ground again. I'm still floating, smiling like a schoolgirl. The other women shuffle away nervously. That's right, girls, this is _my_ trash man. So, step.

"I'm so glad you made it! You liked us?" Adorable asks with a big crooked smile.

"There's no 'us' about it. _You_ rocked that shit, Adorable! And, oh my god, I love that song!"

"Which one?" he asks, leaning closer, touching my arm.

I don't have the heart to tell him I missed ninety-five percent of the show. "The last one. Man, _The New York Dolls_… You know, my big sister Alice saw them live at CBGB's back in the day."

"Dude, really? How old's your big sister? Because, I mean, The Dolls were around in the nineteen-seventies."

Adorable talks about the nineteen-seventies like my grandma used to talk about The Great War… something awful that happened eons ago.

"The_ late_ seventies," I clarify.

"Well, you look… beautiful," Adorable says bashfully, taking a step back, looking me over from head to toe. A note to the ladies out there: men are like raccoons; they like shiny things. I'm wearing a super-short, sparkly silver wrap-dress and my skin is dusted with powder that has a subtle glimmery sheen. Smoky silver eyes, gray nail polish, and black heels round out the look. Really, Adorable never stood a chance.

"You look kind of um…" my voice trails off, as I search for the right words. I take the time to check him out and come face to face with the fact that I really want him. For free. "You're just… great," I finish, suddenly flustered. I think I might be blushing.

Finally, the answer to the age-old question about what makes a hooker blush has revealed itself: a sweating garbage boy that can sing.

Adorable's eyes grow brighter. He takes my hand. "Thanks, um, Isabella," he says, trying out my 'name'. It sounds wrong on his lips. I like Perky better. "Let me introduce you to the guys. Okay?"

"Ahem," someone coughs behind me.

Shit! I forgot about Amun again. He's fuming. And he stands out like, well, I don't know exactly what… sore thumbs don't wear five-thousand dollar suits and have hairy hands.

Adorable drops my hand and takes a step away. "Your friend?" he asks, looking between Amun and me.

"My work," I admit. "I didn't want to miss you."

Amun wraps his arm around me. He says nothing to Adorable, who looks like his puppy just died. For the first time, I notice the two other trash guys looking on with disapproval from the other side of the room. For the first time I really understand what I did here tonight. I can't believe I brought Amun. Tears surprisingly sting my eyes.

Really, it's best that he knows.

"Thanks for the passes," I whisper to my Adorable. "Sorry. Work," I nod to Amun.

Adorable smiles sadly and digs his hands in his pockets.

"Back stage?" Amun reminds me and rubs his crotch against my ass.

With that, Amun and I turn and leave.

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**_OMG, How'd this story turn sad? Hmm... someone reviewed recently and said there was a very dark, serious undertone to this fic, and for that I'm sincerely sorry. Old habits die hard it seems. But trust when I say that it won't be sad forever. _**

**_Thanks for the reviews! Until the next update, xxx, M_**


	10. Monday's Pick Up, Week 3

**EPOV**

The truck rumbles. My stomach rumbles. It's been over twenty-four hours, but I still feel sick as a dog… Dogs, man, they get the shit end of the stick. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Emmett can sense my mood because he doesn't even suggest singing. He doesn't hum or tap out a rhythm on the truck, either.

He's a good guy.

Me? I'm an idiot.

I can't stop replaying Saturday night over and over in my head. Not so much the show, even though we rocked that stage. It's everything that happened after that… Perky… How amazing she looked… How happy she seemed to see me… The feel of her perky tits pressed against me… how easy it was to pick her up… how good it felt… but, but…

But then it all went to shit when I saw the guy she brought - her _date_. Right. I was sure it was a date, and after she left I tried to drink myself into oblivion because I was sure it was a date. It didn't work, though, and I was still kind of conscious when Felix gave me a ride home.

Felix isn't a nice guy like Emmett, by the way. He's on the payroll. Nuff said.

xXxXx

"How d'ya know Laurent's girl?" Felix asked as I lay across his backseat with my arm over my face, hoping desperately not to puke all over myself.

"Which one is she?" I slurred, sloppy and confused. I didn't really care, though; the only girl I wanted to think about was Perky.

I'd totally blown it. I obviously hadn't been clear enough. Perky brought a date; she didn't get that _I'd_ been asking _her_ on a date. She was there with a slick, professional-looking, corporate-type date. She tried to tell me that it was for work, but I wasn't that much of an idiot.

But it turns out I was completely wrong: about Perky and work, and me and idiocy.

Felix was stopped at a traffic light and he took the opportunity to glance over his shoulder and give me a look that showed just how painfully stupid he thought I was. "You _honestly_ don't know she's Laurent's, kid?"

I was trashed, but it didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place.

"Perky?" I asked and I was immediately hit by a wave of nausea. Perky was Laurent's girl.

"Perky," Felix laughed. "Well, I guess. Sure. Now that you mention it."

"I pick up her trash."

That's when he really started laughing.

"Don't laugh at her," I protested trying to sound tough. I tried to pick myself up so I could get in his face, but my arms weren't working right and I couldn't keep my balance. My hands slipped out from under me and I fell face first onto the backseat.

"Don't fucking tell me you have a crush on Laurent's whore."

"Don't call her that!" I tried to shout, but with my mouth against the leather my voice was all muffled.

"And calling her Perky's better?" Felix chuckled.

"Isabella," I offered.

"Isabella," I murmured again, and I had visions of waking up to those big brown eyes and calling her by her real name.

"Yeah, sure, _Isabella_," Felix chuckled sarcastically. I'd never wanted to punch anyone as much as I wanted to punch Felix at that moment. Well, except my dad, but that went without saying. My dad… my _fucking_ father.

"Stop the car."

"Dude, stop the drama, kid. So, you like a hooker. No biggie. You're not the first guy it's ever happened to. You've seen _Pretty Woman_, right?"

"I'm serious. Stop. The. Car, Felix!"

He didn't stop soon enough. I hope I ruined the interior. I'm sure he'd wait to get me alone to let me know one way or the other.

xXxXx

My heart sinks as we round the bend to Perky's house. Her trashcan's outside, right where the driveway meets the curb. She's nowhere in sight.

"You want me to get that one?" Emmett asks, even though I always work Perky's side of the street.

"No, man, I got her," I call back. I need to touch Perky's can. It's all I've got at the moment.

I hang around a little longer than I have to. I peek through the tall hedges and I hope she comes running down the driveway. But she doesn't. So I grasp her can tightly in my hands and start trudging back to the truck.

"Dude, what's that?" Emmett asks as I dump Chinese take-out containers, torn pantyhose, some rope, plastic twist ties and condom wrappers into the back of the truck.

"Don't get smart with me right now, Emmett." I'm not sure which part of the trash he's referring to, and I don't want to know.

"No, you dipshit, not the trash. I'm talking about the note taped to the side of the can. You know, the one addressed to '_Mr. Adorable'_." Emmett's smiling really big, doing his damndest not to laugh. He's a good friend.

I try my best to cover the note up fast so Emmett can't read the rest of it.

"Take your time, _Mr. Adorable_," Emmett laughs. "I'll keep up with the truck."

I'm never going to live that nickname down.

_Mr. Adorable._

_Sorry about Amun. I wasn't thinking. Well, actually, I was thinking… about how much I wanted to see you. I was so focused on that, I didn't even think about your feelings. _

_I was serious about what I said when I saw you. You're awesome. You can sing and scream and play the guitar. And you have rock star eyes and a Bell's Palsy smile. You could really go places. _

_I really hope you do… go places. I hope you have a nice life, Mr. Adorable. You're too sweet for me and you have too much potential. I can't drag you into my world. I like you too much._

_Perky_

She likes me. She likes me 'too much'. She thinks I'm awesome.

And she's wrong about me. And I have an idea.

It's the first good idea that I've had since I decided to give Perky passes to our show, except this time I'm going to make my intentions clear. This time there isn't going to be a hairy-handed john in the picture.

"Fuck," I mumble as I realize that it means making an appointment with dad. I try to stay focused on Perky's words… '_I like you too much_…' instead of the sinking sensation in my stomach. For the first time in recent memory I'm going to ask my dad for a favor. I'm going to step up to the plate as my father's son.

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**A/N: Many thanks to my new beta, pineapplesrock1! It floats my boat to have a beta for this little fic. **

**I'm also so happy for your reviews... ****Can't wait to see what you think about Mr. Adorable and his plan after this chapter...**

**Next update... I'll reply to reviews and let you know. xxx, M**


	11. Wednesday Night's Pick Up

**A/N: Lyrics to **_**Trash**_** are by Robin Gibb, not me… **

**BPOV**

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I lie on my bed, singing along to my old Sesame Street Fever album, staring at the ceiling, looking at my reflection in the large mirror that's mounted up there. I'm wearing khakis, a cashmere cardigan and a diamond solitaire pendant. _Ugh_. The directive was to wear something conservative and casual. _Double ugh_. I want to crawl out of these clothes and into some silk. How do people walk around like this?

And who the hell would want a woman to wear this? I'm going to find out soon, I guess. I notice that my reflection is biting her manicured nails as she mumbles along with the song.

_Sometimes it's lying on a beach_

_Or down an alley out of reach._

_Trash, I love it…_

This whole set-up has me on edge. This new guy is special enough that he's found a way around my rules. He's meeting me at my place.

"_I don't do that, Laurent," I protested yesterday._

"_This comes from higher up, Bell," Laurent countered._

"_Shit, Laurent. I live here. What if this guy's some deviant? I make the calls about the house."_

"_The house that's still under my name," he reminds me._

"_A couple months, Laurent. Just for another couple months."_

"_I'll use what I can in the time I have left."_

It's hard for a hooker to get a mortgage. I do well for myself, but I didn't have eight hundred thousand lying around when I found this place. Laurent knew I was good for it, though. He needed leverage to keep me and he trusted me enough to sign his name on the dotted line. When all is said and done and paid off, the house will be signed over to me, and I'll have made Laurent enough in commission to guarantee him an early retirement.

It's win/win.

_The busted strings and ragged ends,_

_The broken things that no one mends._

_Trash, I love it..._

Seriously, it's a fine idea. Laurent's a stand-up pimp. Plus, we have it all in writing… somewhere. I really need to find that piece of paper, because the time's coming soon.

There's a knock at the door. I jump from the bed, turn off the stereo, smooth out my awful clothes, and stride down the stairs. I'm on. I'm confident. I _will_ own this situation. This guy thinks he's so important that he can flout my rules; well then, he's met his match.

I shake my head so my hair is voluminous and messy and perfect. I smack my lips. I throw open the door. My heart stops.

"Hey, Perky."

Adorable's looking at his shoes, but his eyes travel up my body slowly, warily, embarrassed. I hug my arms around myself, doing my best to hide the ugly clothes. He's smiling like a kid that just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He's so goddamned cute. And sadly, he needs to go.

"Adorable," I sigh. "I don't have time for you now. You shouldn't be here."

"I have… an appointment."

"Excuse me?"

"Perky…" he pleads.

"Trash guy?"

"_We_ have an appointment."

What's he saying?

"No," I protest. "I'm meeting someone with ties to -"

"Hey!" he interrupts sharply. I gasp, shocked. I've never heard him raise his voice before. But then his fingers find my hand. They're so much gentler than his voice was just a second ago. And warm…. And rough. I have a quick mental image of what those rugged finger pads could do, and I shiver.

"Perky," he sighs. "See what I'd do for you?"

I looked into his gray-green eyes, so sincere, so hopeful. "Adorable," I whisper. I'm not sure if I'm calling him by name or making a description.

"I wasn't clear the other night," he continues. "I want to spend time with you. _Just_ you. No one else."

Realization dawns like lightening. "So you paid to fuck me?" I accuse acidly. My voice is too loud, too high and I don't know why I'm suddenly insulted. This is my job. My life.

"I didn't pay a thing," Adorable says steadily. He's still holding my hand, which makes it hard to think. "And I'm not going to sleep with you. Not unless you want to."

"Adorable, I don't know what you're talking about. You didn't pay. You don't know if you'll fuck me…"

His smile is cautious. "It's called a date, Perky. It's the way most people do it."

_Huh._

"But… how -" my voice trails off. I'm lost: in his eyes, in the feel of his large fingers rubbing over my palm, in trying to figure out how he made any of this possible. And if he's the one that made this happen…

"Church clothes?" I ask mockily, poking him in the chest with my free hand.

"I just said regular clothes. I was thinking jeans and a T-shirt, or something." He sighs as he sadly looks over my outfit. I know how he feels and I vow to change my clothing as soon as it's hookerly possible. "He _never_ listens to me," Mr. Adorable mumbles angrily to himself.

"He?" I ask.

"Later, maybe," comes his quiet reply. I let it drop, because I've lost his smile and the hopeful look in his pretty eyes.

"What now?" I ask.

"Can I come in?"

"It's really you?"

"It's really me," he insists.

"With me? Tonight?"

"Yep," he reiterates nodding his head slowly, his crooked smile creeping back onto his face.

We stand there on the front steps looking one another over. He's got on those old, worn jeans again, and a Ramones T this time. It strains across his chest.

Maybe I have to let him into the house, but it comes really close to feeling like I have the choice. It's exciting. I acquiesce. "Okay. Sure, come in."

"Thanks, Isabella." He squeezes my hand.

"Call me Perky, please?"

"Anything you ask, Perky. Anything for you."

He doesn't know what he's saying, but he's still holding my hand. I step backwards over the threshold so that I don't have to take my eyes off him as he walks into the house.

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**A/N: Rubbish has been nominated for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand! I'd be honored if you'd vote: ht tp : / tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com/**

**As always, I've loved your reviews. The next chapter's coming soon... xxx, M**


	12. How Most People Do It

**A/N: Lyrics to **_**Here Comes Your Man**_** are by Pixies, not me. See the last chapter about Robin Gibb. He was the one that wrote **_**Trash for Sesame Street Fever**_**.**

**EPOV**

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Perky's house is neat and clean and white and expensive looking. There are big purple things scattered everywhere… throw pillows, an area rug, a painting. It looks like the kind of place Barney would go after he died.

When Perky comes back downstairs she matches her home. She's wearing dark skinny jeans and a silky purple tank. No bra.

"Perky," I blurt out like a man with Tourette's.

"Me or my tits?" she asks without blinking an eye.

"Both?" I admit, and suddenly need to look at my feet.

"Nice," she replies and pads over to the stereo. She chooses Doolittle by the Pixies and I fall for her a little more. "What now?" she asks, spinning around towards me, leaning against the console, biting her lip likes she's the nervous one.

"Dinner, maybe?" I stutter.

Don't get me wrong, I've been with enough girls, but my actual, formal dating experience has been limited.

"Chinese?" she asks.

We order in, her choice. She's vegetarian. She loves broccoli. She's never had Mongolian beef or Peking Duck, and that's amazing to me. So is her musical knowledge.

"Alice snuck me into a Pixies show when I was fourteen," she admits before she pops another broccoli spear into her mouth.

"Which album were they touring for?" I wonder out loud.

Perky narrows her eyes. "So you can do the math?" she asks.

She's smart. "Just wondering."

"Trompe le Monde." Her eyes watch carefully for my reaction.

I can't help it. I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't honestly know if I could have hung with Surfer Rosa.

"Their last album," she clarifies unnecessarily. "Jesus and Mary Chain opened," she adds with a smile.

"Fuck me," I murmur full of awe and Mongolian beef.

"Your rules, Adorable. No guarantees about fucking," she adds with a satisfied smile.

She's obviously very pleased with that idea. It has me worried. Maybe it'll all backfire. Maybe she'll never sleep with me. Maybe I'll be the guy she never fucks.

"What about you, Adorable… were you even alive then?" she asks, and for a minute I don't know what she's talking about because I can't tear my mind away from thoughts of me fucking Perky, Perky fucking me, the two of us...

"For the Tromp le Monde tour?" she asks patiently.

"Uh," I hedge, stalling on purpose now, kind of pleased that she's trying to figure out my age. Perky throws a purple pillow at me. It's easy to dodge.

"Sure, I was alive for Tromp le Monde," I admit. "Surfer Rosa, though, well, it depends on what month the album came out."

She chucks another pillow in my direction. "God help me," she laughs, shaking her head. Hair comes loose from her ponytail. She's really pretty.

"Does it matter?" I ask.

Her eyes look me over. "I guess," she says in a whisper.

"How much does it matter?" I push. She thinks about it while she chews on a broccoli spear. I take the opportunity to give her a once over too. I like her dark purple toenail polish. I like her ankles and her collarbones. I really like her big brown eyes. I like her. I hope I'm doing this right, because if there are rules about dating a call girl, I couldn't find them on Google. I'm flying blind.

"I don't know yet," she admits after a few seconds. "What are you staring at?"

"You're eyes," I admit. "They're like big brown puddles of mud that I wouldn't mind swimming in."

Perky blinks slowly. She smiles. She obviously knows what she's doing because she makes it hard for me to look away. "I like your eyes too," she murmurs. And just with her voice, she makes other things kind of hard, too.

"Really?" I ask, because I can't think of anything else to say.

She nods her head gravely and then goes back to her broccoli. The jangly guitar riff that starts off _Here Comes Your Man_ breaks through the silence.

_There is a wait so long, so long, so long,_

_You'll never wait so long…_

_Here comes your man_

"This song remind you of anyone?" I ask.

"Not really. Not exactly," she murmurs, and I can't help but feel disappointed. I kind of wanted her to feel that way while she waited for me to come get her can twice weekly. I think I must give myself away with my look. Perky shakes her head. "No, not this one, trash man."

"What song then?" I ask. "What do you think about when you hear Nessie coming down the road?"

Suddenly her smile is huge, spontaneous. She stands up and offers me her hand. "You asked for it."

Perky pulls me up the stairs, down a hall, into a huge room with the biggest bed I've ever seen. It's covered with purple silk. The shades are deep purple. She's consistent. And she's got a huge ass stereo system. And a turntable that she switches on.

"Take a seat," she instructs off-handedly.

There's only the bed.

After she places the needle on a record, she kind of dives onto the mattress, giggling, pleased with herself. The mellow sounds of disco synth fill the air.

"What the hell?" I mumble, cautiously settling back against the headboard. That's when I notice the mirror on the ceiling. Holy shit. I'm nervous enough to actually scoot away from her.

_What other people throw away_

_I try to save for a rainy day._

_Trash, I love it._

"Trash!" a chorus of women hiss after that line.

Perky's laughing, and the bed's shaking because of it.

"What the hell?" I ask, louder this time.

_You see I wasn't born with much_

_'Cept the sun and moon and such,_

_So I handle it all carefully._

_Trash is everything to me._

"Sesame Street Fever," Perky laughs. Her eyes are actually tearing and her makeup smudges just a little.

She laughs harder, her hand reaches for my knee. I don't know what to say. I think I can make out Kermit and Miss Piggy's voices in the background.

_The schemes that only last a day,_

_The games I'm just too old to play._

_Trash, I love it._

_But when I feel I'm wearing thin,_

_Regretting things that should've been,_

_I settle down quite peacefully._

_Trash is everything to me._

"It's really kind of deep," I offer, and Perky tries to look at me with a straight face. But she can't keep it up, and she bursts out laughing again.

Her laughter is awesome: her whole body shakes, her eyes shut tight, her lips glisten… she clutches my knee harder. She changes when she laughs. She lets something go. She's beautiful, fuckable. Except I told her we didn't have to. I confirm that I'm an idiot with every move I make with this chick.

"What now?" she asks, when the song fades away.

I swallow, I think I blush, and she tries one of my sideways smiles. "Well, you're a guy…" she says, running her eyes over me again. I stretch my legs out to their full length. I try to lean back against the headboard in a manly way.

"I know a little something about what guys like," she says with a mischievous grin. She pulls her legs underneath her, rises to her knees, and places her hands on the mattress in front of her. Yep. She's on all fours. I'm frozen… Every single part of my anatomy.

"Yep, definitely a guy," she says. I'm pretty sure I know where she's looking.

She reaches across my legs and her pretty little ass is so close to my face. Her jeans are the luckiest jeans in the entire world. There's only silk and denim between her tits and my knees. She stretches her arm out for something on the floor. Lube? A condom? Both? Ropes and twist ties? Torn panty hose. I'll take anything.

She comes up with a remote.

Perky's smiling as she sits back on her knees and clicks a button. The wall in front of us opens, and there's a fucking enormous screen on the other side.

"T.V?" she asks, laughing.

"Fuck," I mumble, exasperated.

"Come on, that was funny," she says, nudging my arm.

"You want to watch T.V?" I ask.

Perky scoots next to me so that our legs are touching. "Let's just see what's on," she suggests. She hits a button. The screen's practically the size of her bedroom wall. Normally, I would be mesmerized. But I can't think past the fact that we're on her bed. Touching. And that I said I wouldn't fuck her. And she's not really making a move in that direction.

"Holy crap!" she exclaims and gets all bouncy, leaving me even more helpless than I already was. "We've got to watch, right?" she asks.

"What?"

"Dude! A Sanford & Son marathon. A garbage marathon. It's too perfect!" A second later Perky's sprinting down the stairs to get ice cream, leaving me alone on her bed, looking forward to a long night of trashy T.V.

* * *

**A/N: I'll save you a Google search. Surfer Rosa came out in 1988 and Trompe le Monde came out in 1991. But I'm evil and I'll let you do the math if you're so inclined.**

**The next update... I'll let you squirm for a couple hours. In the meantime, on Twitter: BellaDCullen. On facebook: www . facebook . com/belladonna . cullen1**

**Be back before I hit the hay! M**


	13. Falling In, Falling For, Falling Asleep

**EPOV**

Sanford and Son may be an old as fuck sitcom about my life's work and all, but it's boring as all hell. Perky's not boring, though.

After a couple episodes she decided to get more comfortable. For Perky, that meant peeling of her jeans. She was left with long bare legs, purple lace panties and her shiny purple tank. She nonchalantly sat back down on the bed with her legs crossed and a bowl of chips in her lap, like hanging out in her see-through underwear was the most normal thing in the world.

I decided to get more comfortable too. The jeans came off. So did the socks. She didn't bat an eye. She hardly looked my way. But her knee brushed mine.

Not boring.

I decided to watch her instead.

I fell into it easily. She's mesmerizing: the way she constantly wriggles her toes, the way she rubs her long legs together without thinking, the way her chest rises and falls a little unevenly... Her ass in those little panties when she gets up to use the bathroom… The way she's always pulling her hair back into a ponytail, even though it just falls right out and she has to do it all over again.

I don't get the hair thing, but I'm in no position to judge. I'm forever running my hands through my hair or tugging on it, for no reason that I've ever been able to figure out. It's a filthy habit. My hair stinks after ten hours on the truck. But tonight I washed it special, just for Perky.

After watching forever - her watching the T.V., me watching her - she kind of curls on her side, her head on my bare leg. She's still watching. She doesn't take her eyes off the screen. I can feel every time she blinks.

"What do you want from me, Adorable?" she asks in a quiet voice during a commercial.

My mind races and I'm not sure what to say. I search for the elusive right answer, but then it occurs to me that it's easy. "I just like you, Perky. It's that simple."

I hazard at playing with her hair. It's fallen out of her hair tie again, of course.

"Why?" she whispers, her breath tickling my thigh.

"I think sometimes people just like each other."

Her hair feels like silk. So does her tank top. So does her bedspread. Her skin is even softer. I'm in purple, sensory heaven.

"Well, I like you," she says, snuggling against me. And I'm so relieved to hear those words out loud that it makes it easier not to molest her. It's the first sign that any of this is working. I try really hard not to move, not to ruin anything.

"How'd you get here tonight, Adorable? How'd you do this?" she asks, kind of nuzzling my thigh.

"I like you enough." It's all I'm willing to admit. I don't even really know what this is going to cost me.

"But that doesn't -"

"Please, Perky," I interrupt. "There's a lot I'd do for you. And I don't really get why. I don't know if it matters. You're pretty. And you're funny. And you've got balls. And I've been, uh, thinking about you ever since I met you."

_And you're perky_, I think to myself, gazing over her shoulder at her tits, but I keep that to myself. Because she knows she's perky. And she knows I know she's perky. No need to state the obvious.

"Well, thanks, Adorable," she yawns.

"Any time, Perky," and I mean it. I have to call my dad again. I know it.

The show comes back on and we fall back into silence. At the next commercial I think I've finally found the nerve to make a move.

"Perky?" I ask quietly.

She doesn't answer. She's fallen asleep.


	14. Eyes Open

**BPOV**

The first thing I notice: legs. Cool, long, bare, and tangled with mine. Skin against skin. It feels divine.

The second thing I notice: The rise and fall of a hard chest and a strong arm wrapped around me, pinning me securely to said chest.

The third thing I notice: Warm breath tickling the back of my neck. That's when consciousness dawns. That's when I know. That's when I slowly lift my head and see…

The fourth thing: Adorable's face; his slowly blinking gray-green eyes and his crooked, sleepy smile.

I brush my lips against his stubble. You know, just to make sure I'm not dreaming.

"Isabella," he whispers, his lips so close to mine. "Morning, Isabella."

"Just Bell, please."

"Bell… _Perky_ Bell. Sweet."

His lips come closer, his arms and legs pull me in even tighter, my heart is suddenly fluttering like it's trying to beat its way out of my chest, like it's trying to leap through my throat.

He kisses me.

Amateurs take note: There's a proper technique for making out with a man in the morning. I'm not using it. I lose myself in the kissing and licking and sucking and nipping, in the teeth clicking, in the hands gently groping. It's as sweet as it is desperate.

Somehow, quite quickly, we've rotated and he's on top of me, on his knees and his elbows, one hand in my knotted hair, the other is everywhere.

"Oh, Perky," he mumbles as his lips move to my earlobe. "My Perky."

Adorable knows how to use his lips. He can use them on me forever if he wants to. We could stay here forever and kiss and feel and, and… And he's still on his knees. I want his cock. I'm dying for it. To feel it, see it, wrap my lips around it. Either set, mind you. I need it with an urgency that I've forgotten about. I need all of him.

"Please," I whimper. "Please," and I wrap my legs around him and try to pull him down against me.

"Anything, Perky," he coos as he nuzzles my ear.

"You, then."

"Shit!"

He's sitting. I'm left wanting with nerve endings firing uselessly, because his body is gone.

"What?" I gasp.

"Do you hear it?" he asks. "Shit!"

I strain my ears. _Oh no._ I cringe. "We both forgot about the trash," I mutter in astonishment.

Adorable's up and out of the bed in a second, his pants, one sock and his shoes all jumbled up in his hands.

"I've got to go," he explains frantically. "But, but I'll see you again. Promise." And he's running down the stairs.

_Damn._

"Adorable!" I call as I launch myself out of the bed and rush after him.

He's left the front door open, and I race to catch up. I find him standing in the street next to Nessie, barefoot in just his T-shirt and boxer briefs. Jasper the task-master is shaking his head at Adorable in solemn disapproval. The other guy, the one that's usually frozen, has a huge smile on his face.

"Can we give you a lift, _Mr. Adorable_?" the frozen giant asks, doubling over with laughter.

_No one_ makes fun of my trash man. I march over to the three of them. I place my hand on Adorable's ass, something I've wanted to do for too long.

"Have a good day at work, baby," I coo and I wrap my other arm around him and go on tip toe - so my ass looks good for the show, and so I can place a lingering kiss on Adorable's crooked mouth. I make it last. I like it. I can feel how much he likes it too. I want a chance to explore that feeling in greater detail.

"I -" he says as I break away, but I place my finger over his lips.

"Thanks, Adorable," I whisper.

I turn around and walk back up the driveway. I close the front door with a sigh and fall against it. I've just had the best first date. Ever.

* * *

**A/N: Aww... Thanks for the reviews & recs & tweets & C2 adds & for nominating & voting for Rubbish for Fic of the Week...**

**I'll respond to reviews with info on the timing of the next update.**

**Oh, and yes, you'll totally eventually find out what Adorable's dad does for a living.**

**xxx, M**


	15. Friday Night's Pick Up

**A/N: Although it's right up my alley, I didn't write the theme song to Mr. Ed. Words and music are by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans.**

**EPOV**

**

* * *

**

I'm waiting with a beer. I'm early. I can't stop staring at the door. I wonder if she knows it's me. I wonder what Laurent says, and how exactly it works. I wonder what the hell she was doing last night, because she wasn't with me. She wasn't lying next to me. She didn't wake up next to me…

Or in my arms… or underneath me… I can't stop thinking about how it felt to hold her, touch her…

It turns out that even though Perky seems larger than life, her body's really small. She's tough. She's big, but not big-bodied. It's weird. I want more… More of her _and_ more time to figure that shit out. Which is why I'm here. It's why I went to dad again. It's why I said yes when my mom invited me to Sunday brunch.

Sunday brunch is a big step in my life. When I try to figure out if Perky's worth it, my brain stops working, because she shouldn't be worth it. I hardly know her and she sleeps with men for money.

But I still want her. She's all I can think about. I want to hang out with her and watch her eat broccoli spears and talk about music. And I want to kiss her again, and maybe try it while my dick's inside her. Okay, there's no maybe about it, I definitely want that. And there's other stuff, things I've never really cared to do with anybody: Like fall asleep with Perky next to me and wake up looking into her eyes. It all adds up to enough… Enough to talk to dad. Enough to make me really nervous while I wait.

I look up from my beer and choke when I see Perky's silhouette emerge from the misty fog outside the bar's entrance. It's the moment in the dirty romance that's become my life where that trashy disco song from the other night should start playing in the background.

Instead, Highway to Hell's on the jukebox. I don't believe it for a second. She's closer to heaven, if you ask me.

Perky's wearing skinny jeans again, with heels this time. It looks like she's got on an old Guns 'N Roses T-shirt under a leather jacket. I think I might die.

She takes a few steps inside. Her lips are really red and her hair's loose. I think she's nervous, because she's holding onto the doorframe really tight.

I wanted to make this night as normal as possible. I wanted to see the real Perky again; I wanted her to be herself.

xXxXx

"_She should wear whatever she wants, dad. I don't give a shit about her clothes."_

"_It's your date, kid. Just want to make sure you're having a good time."_

"_It's not like that."_

"_It's not? You gay, son?"_

"_Fuck no."_

xXxXx

I guess it _is_ like that, but it's not, all at the same time. It's confusing.

I stand to my feet and my chair knocks against the sticky floor.

She sees me, her hand drops, her lips part. It's her eyes that get me, though. They sparkle. She likes me; I can tell. She swings her hips a little when she walks. She's wearing a bra today. I give myself a goal and I shoot low this time. I'm going to try to see her bra before the night's over. Anything else will be a bonus.

Just when I think Perky's going to stop walking, she doesn't. She comes right around the table, right up to me and kisses me hello. Her fingers find my ass and my hand's knotted in her hair and I don't know how it got there. All I know is that I don't want to stop. She tastes salty and minty and I can't help licking her lips. They part and I'm in… in heaven and in-fucking-love with this woman. I'm pretty sure.

"Christ, Ed, get a room," Felix laughs from somewhere in the background.

The mood's ruined and I'm ready to throw down. I've had enough of Felix for a lifetime. He doesn't get to ruin this for me. Perky clutches my arm. "Whoa, settle down there, Mr. Ed."

_What the hell?_ I'm confused enough to stand aside and let Alec strong-arm Felix out of the room.

"You know about Mr. Ed?" I ask Perky under my breath, suddenly very conscious that she's holding my bare arm. Mr. Ed is too.

"What'd'ya mean?" she asks. She steers me back to my seat. "Mr. Ed? Of course I know about Mr. Ed."

"I just don't remember telling you about… _Mr. Ed_," I say leaning across the table, pretty sure I'm blushing. But, I mean, if she wants to talk about my dick, I'm game.

"The talking horse?" she whispers back. Her eyes are laughing.

"What the fuck? A talking horse?" I ask.

"Mr. Ed." She looks confused, or amused, or both.

"What does, um, _Mr. Ed_ have to do with a talking horse?"

"He _is_ a talking horse," Perky insists.

Snakes, serpents, rods of steel; I've heard dicks called strange things.

"Dude, I've never heard it called a talking horse."

Perky starts singing under her breath. I lean in closer to listen.

"_A horse is a horse, of course, of course,_

_And this one'll talk 'til his voice is hoarse._

_You never heard of a talking horse?_

_I am Mr. Ed."_

I'm gaping. A talking horse? Well, fuck me.

"Who's Mr. Ed?" she giggles.

"No one," I reply nervously, taking a long swig from my beer.

Her smile grows. She tilts her head and her eyes dart in the right direction. Her knee brushes mine under the table. "Does it talk?" she asks.

"Fuck you," I mumble.

"Optional," she laughs back.

I fold my arms across my chest and I slump in my seat. This brings my knee into contact with… warm denim. Perky instantly stops laughing and shifts in her chair. Her eyelids flutter.

I rock my leg back and forth a little, and sure enough, there's denim on either side of my knee. Perky shimmies to the edge of her seat and her fingertips grip the tabletop. I press my knee against her and watch her chest go still.

She swallows. Her cool exterior crumbles for just a second. She's a pretty girl with someone's knee pressed against her pussy. She's my date. She's flushed, she's turned on, and I'm pretty sure that I'm going to get to see that bra.

I blink, and Perky's back in charge. She grasps my knee and pushes herself off me and leans across the table. She's on her elbows, her hand holds my chin, she's so goddamned pretty that I don't want to look away, but when I set a goal, I go for it. My eyes dart downward. Her bra's black lace. This night's gonna be good. I can tell.

"I'd really like to meet that talking horse of yours, Adorable," she says.

My chair clatters to the ground as I jump to my feet. I throw a five down for the beer. I'm completely ready.

Perky bites her lip, she stands up slowly, and smoothes out her T-shirt. "So?" she asks.

"Uh?"

"My car or yours?"

With Felix gone I'd have to hit up Alec for a ride, unless Jasper's lurking somewhere. Chances are he's riding Nessie. And Perky has that sweet Audi. "Yours?" I ask.

"My car, your place, then."

"_My_ place?"

"Please."

My place it is.

* * *

**A/N: It's your last chance to vote for Rubbish for Fic of the week: ht tp : / / www . tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com/**

**Next update... Coming soon. xxx, M**


	16. His Place

**A/N: Lyrics to _I Would for You_ are by Jane's Addiction.**

**BPOV**

I wrap my hands around Adorable as he unlocks his front door. I don't know if I'm impatient or if it actually takes him forever. I kiss his back through his T-shirt while I wait, I reach for his neck with my lips, and my hands stray over his dick.

Holy. Hell. Mr. Ed, indeed.

A note to the ladies: Twenty-two year olds can get so hard that it's actually difficult to move their dicks from the upright position. I have a perfect specimen in hand. I have proof. And it's attached to a hot, sweet, talented garbage man. _My_ garbage man. Don't get any ideas.

Adorable's finally got the door open, and I practically push him inside. He turns to catch me and he holds my face in his hands as his lips crash into mine. It's not refined. I don't care. I understand how he feels. I want this so much that I can't think straight. My fingers go for his fly. I can't help it. I have a one-track mind. All etiquette, all grace, all teasing goes out the window. I'm a love struck amateur all over again.

I push him backwards through the darkened apartment. I have no idea where we're going; all I know is his lips are soft, his cheeks are rough, and his dick's harder than granite. Adorable's legs knock against a pulled-out pull out. I push him down and climb on board. Fuck, it's like there's a steel rod between my thighs.

"Fuck," he mumbles as his hips rise to meet me.

"Optional," I whisper back between kisses. I'm awful. Any options were left back at the bar. Any options flew out the window after he got hard as he watched me drive us here.

"No," he insists and his dick hits me again. "Please," he adds sweetly, desperately.

"Christ," I hiss as he thrusts again. And again. I close my eyes. Again. It's like an earthquake. Again. I grind back. Again. He's kissing my neck. Again. His hands clutch my ass. Oh my god, I'm dry humping a garbage man. Again. A hand slips under my T-shirt. I move with him. Again. I whimper.

The sound of my own voice, spontaneous and unfamiliar breaks me from the spell. I've gotten sidetracked. I'm on a mission. It's time to meet the talking horse.

I shimmy backwards and slip to my knees on the floor.

"Perky," he mumbles, his hands tangle in my hair. "Perky, hey."

Adorable sounds frantic as he rises to his elbows. I shush him as I tug at his jeans, and I watch his lips part as he gets it. I'm too old for dry humping, and I have an appointment with... I gasp. He's truly hung like a horse.

"Hey, big guy," I whisper in awe, my lips brushing over Mr. Ed's head. Two hands. Yep. Two hands. "I hear you talk." My fingers don't meet. You get the picture. That's all I'm saying, cause he's mine.

"Talk to me?" I ask Mr. Ed, getting very up close and personal.

A kiss.

A hiss.

"No?" I coo. "Distracted?"

A kiss with tongue.

A hiss with swearing.

There's nothing left to do but get my hands out of the way and part my lips and relax, which is hard, because_ he's_ so hard and I'm excited. So is he. He's holding handfuls of my hair, his thighs are clenched, and in one long swift stroke, he's inside. At the back of my throat.

"Shit," he gasps.

I repeat with a twist and I tug at his balls cause they're hard and that means…

"Shit," Adorable hisses.

The next time I use more suction and teeth, as I palm his balls and press on his perineum. I could do this all night. I _want _to do this all night. He's tugging harder, he's bucking his hips.

"Perky!"

Not quite all night, ladies and gentlemen.

Adorable falls back on the bed. "Wow," he breathes.

I crawl beside him and rest my head on his chest. He wraps an arm around me.

"I like Mr. Ed," I confess.

"He likes you too."

My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I take in the concert posters, the barren kitchenette, the iPod dock and bottle of lotion next to the bed. I smile.

"Confession time, Adorable."

"What?" he asks, sleepily. He opens his eyes and I'm shocked all over again at how pretty they are. He rubs my cheek and rolls to his side.

"What song do you listen to when you, uh, moisturize?" I nod to the stereo. Adorable covers his eyes with a big hand and shakes his head.

"Hey, come on." I tug at his arm. I climb on top of him. That gets his attention. "No need to be embarrassed."

"What if it's… embarrassing?"

"More embarrassing than Sesame Street Fever?" I laugh. He lets me pull his hands away. He lets me pin them both over his head. I lean in for a kiss. Soft, long, probing. Suddenly Mr. Ed's trying to tell me something all over again.

"What song?" I ask, my nose brushing his, wriggling myself over his growing erection.

"You won't let it go, will you?" he asks.

I place a probing hand between my thighs. "Do you _want_ me to let it go?"

Adorable closes his eyes and he thrusts into my hand. I remove it playfully.

"Fine," he says, with a sigh. "Just turn it on. You'll see."

I do as he instructs. The lighthearted mood evaporates and my smile disappears and I sit back on my heels, stunned as the first notes of Jane's Addiction's _I Would for You_ fill the small apartment.

Adorable's suddenly sitting behind me and he wraps his arms around me. "It's a lot," he murmurs in my ear.

"It is. I don't get it," I admit.

"I don't either, Perky. But it's true."

His lips are on my neck. His hands come up under my T-shirt, under my bra. I sigh as I press my breasts into his hands, and I press my ass against his dick. My shirt comes off; my bra rips as he inexpertly tears it off. And we're all hands and lips and limbs, making out to one of the best make-out songs ever.

_And if you wonder_

_What I would do_

_I would do_

_Anything_

_If I could_

_You know I would_

The button of my jeans pops off. Finally, I'm naked. Finally he's on top of me. He doesn't stop kissing, worshipping me with his lips. And with one stroke, he's inside. I can't help it. I cry out. He stills, but then goes for it again. And it's rushed and sweet and hard, and pillows and blankets topple off the bed, until the only thing on the mattress is me and Adorable, twisted around each other, as deep inside one another as possible. Panting and groping, overwhelmed and overcome.

* * *

**A/N: Next update in the morning. xxx, M**


	17. Homecoming

**EPOV**

I find Perky in the shower and I step inside. I can't keep my hands off of her, and I quickly have her against the wall.

"Morning," she smiles, her hand goes for my dick. "Morning, Mr. Ed," she laughs.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" I ask as Mr. Ed presses his luck. He's going for gold. I wonder if that show Perky told me about was about a racehorse.

But Perky twists her hips, angling away. I step back.

"What is it?"

"Last night was… a lot."

I can't keep the crooked smile off my face. "Yeah?"

She nods her head as she places her hands flat on my chest.

"How many times?" I ask, my hands on the wall on either side of her head, leaning in, my forehead against hers.

"You were there, Adorable. Six, seven?"

"No… you. How many times did you… you know -" I don't know why I can't say it. I've fucked her sideways; I've seen my cum on her pretty, perky tits.

She bites her lip; her eyes are suddenly looking at something in the corner. Mr. Ed slinks away, embarrassed beyond belief.

"You're kidding," I sigh.

I try to figure out what to do with myself, and turn to leave the shower stall.

"Hey, Adorable." Perky catches my arm. "Come back here."

She pulls my hand towards her wet pussy. I can't help but notice that her lips are maybe a little more puffy, a little pink. "Let's try it this way," she says, as she parts her lips with her other hand. "Here."

And it's warm and tight and soft as her fingers and mine are tangled up inside her. Her breath is on my chest and her knotted nipples are rubbing against me. She moves my fingers and gasps.

"There," she hisses.

"Where?" I ask.

"There." She moves my fingers again, and I think I feel it, and her hips rock.

"There?"

"Uh huh," she whispers and her free hand clutches my bicep. Her head falls against my chest.

I slide and wiggle my fingers, I aim for the spot she showed me, I explore, and she's leaning all of her weight on me, her breath comes hard.

I open my eyes and, _holy fuck_. This is the moment I've been dreaming about since the first day we've met. Perky's standing in front of me: wet, naked, and… perky. I keep working my fingers as I drop to my knees and I don't stop until my nickname echoes off the tile walls.

"Adorable!"


	18. Daddy Details

**BPOV**

I'm lying in Adorable's bed, wearing his Jane's Addiction T-shirt. He's naked. I like him that way. A lot.

"Let me guess," I mumble. I play with his damp happy trail. "You didn't pay, again."

"Didn't," he agrees, his fingers slip gently along my slit.

"Should I be flattered or frightened?" I hold my breath, because of his hands, and because of his answer.

He shrugs and I shiver. I don't know if I believe it. How could someone so cute be dangerous too?

"Tell me something about yourself, Perky," he asks. His finger slides.

"There's nothing to tell," I manage.

His hand moves to my hair.

"You have a big sister, Alice." He kisses my nose.

"I do."

"And family?" he asks, and he rubs my cheek like he's cherishing me.

"A dad," I mumble, closing my eyes, letting him cradle my head in his big, rough hand.

"You think he'd like me?" Adorable asks.

"I don't know," I laugh. "He'd be a hard sell. He works for the F.B.I."

Mr. Adorable practically jumps to the other side of the bed. His mood's changed completely. He stares out the window like he can see my dad with a loaded rifle, or something.

I sit up laughing. "Hey, Adorable, it's okay. I'm a grown woman. And you're the least of my dad's worries. I mean, we stopped talking a while ago, for obvious reasons."

"That's good," he replies with a relieved sigh, but his eyes are far away.

"Excuse me?" I ask. I touch Adorable's knee and bring him back from wherever he was.

"Oh, sorry, Perky," he says, shaking his head like he's trying to get rid of a bad dream. "_My_ dad's just an ass. I guess I'm biased against fathers."

"What does he do?" I ask. The question's been in the back of my mind since Wednesday night.

"He's, uh, in waste management," Adorable admits, playing with his hands in his lap.

"The trash business?"

"Trash," he agrees. I sense there's more than garbage pick up behind his words.

"And he makes you ride the truck? That's really starting from the bottom up."

"It's complicated."

"I think I can keep up," I offer, sitting cross-legged in front of Adorable, taking his hands in mine.

"I'm not a big fan of my dad, but there's a lot of pressure for me to stay close to him. I didn't want to be too… _hands on_, I guess," he starts to explain. "I might have tried to leave, but my mom, she's kind of over-protective," he continues, picking at imaginary lint on his bed sheet.

"But being the guy that actually picks up the trash seems really hands on, Adorable," I point out. "I don't get it." I decide that maybe I can't keep up. It's been a long time since the SATs.

"I shouldn't be saying any of this," Adorable sighs, hanging his head.

"Trash guy, talk to me. Please?"

His eyes search mine. He looks vulnerable and raw and I can't help but go in for a kiss. It becomes urgent, it always does with Adorable, and I'm beginning to think it's more than his age. It's him and me – together. We fall to our sides, forgetting the conversation. I lose the T-shirt and I'm tempted to give Mr. Ed another try at bringing me home.

"Tell me?" I ask eventually, holding his head in my hand.

"Well, the trash business's kind of cut-throat, you know?" Adorable asks as his hands run over my ribs, around to my ass.

"I don't know," I manage.

"It is," he whispers in my ear.

"I'll take your word for it."

"My dad had to promise a lot to get Aro to give him his own territory."

"Aro?" I ask as my mind struggles to keep up with Adorable's hands and his words. "The trash trucks that all say "We Know Our Way AROund Your Can'?"

"Yeah, that's him," Adorable admits. His hands have stopped exploring, but he holds me tight like I'm a buoy keeping him afloat.

"What did your dad promise, Adorable?"

"His first born," he whispers, closing his eyes.

I laugh. I didn't see that joke coming, but when I look at him, Adorable's not smiling.

"You're kidding," I gasp.

"My dad thought he was being smart. My mom couldn't have kids. They adopted me and dad thought he was safe on a technicality. Aro didn't see it the same way, though. There's been a price on my head since I was two months old."

"You're like baby Jesus," I murmur in astonishment.

"I'm not ready to start a religion."

"You hang out with hookers."

"Just one."

"Christ," I mutter. It's a lot to digest. "How did you manage to see me, Adorable?"

He shrugs again. "Haven't you seen The Sopranos, Perky? My dad's in waste management."

* * *

**A/N: Well, I'm off to collapse somewhere. Or off to a kids birthday party. Maybe to pass out at a kid's birthday party. Anyway, next little update, you guessed it, Sunday brunch. **

**Thanks for the reviews! xxx, M**


	19. In and Out

**For Memphis, who made me think about Rice Krispies and The Trash Men. **

**EPOV**

I only live on the other side of town, but I'm really late. Tangled in Perky's arms and legs and long brown hair, Daylight Savings Time wasn't the first thing on my mind.

I rushed when I realized, though, because after a whole day with Perky in my bed, I know more than ever that I need to make this work. I'm resolved.

I'm going to brunch for a reason. A good reason, I think to myself as I pull down the long drive towards my parent's home. Honestly, I can't believe what an amazing reason I have back in my bed. She's sleeping, topless, quiet… and so pretty. She's spent the past day with me, naked, mostly. Sometimes she'd wear my T-shirt. I never let that last too long, though, because cotton sucks compared to Perky's skin.

She's my reason… She's the girl who likes my music collection, who's read every book I've ever read, and who can't stop kissing me, who doesn't mind how much I want to touch her, who doesn't think anything of walking around my apartment naked, or outside naked, and who gave me, like, a ninth chance to make her come with my dick. She's the girl who I vow _will _come with my dick, eventually. I'm going to figure that out after brunch.

She's the girl who giggles because Rice Krispies are my favorite cereal and the only thing in my kitchen, the girl who laughs as she pronounces that Emmett's new nickname is Pop, because Jasper would have to be Crackle. As usual, I had no clue what Perky was talking about, until she showed me an old commercial on You Tube.

"That makes me Snap?" I asked, pulling her onto my lap.

"Snap's hot," she laughed as she placed her bowl of cereal on the floor. "The hottest Krispie elf."

"I'm hot?"

"Yeah."

"Nice," I murmured, holding her ass in my hands, sliding Mr. Ed between her folds.

"And you're nice, too," she said with a milky, snap, crackle and pop kiss.

I tipped her onto her back. "Nice?" It seemed like a step down from hot.

"And big," she added as I pressed my erection against her.

"You think?"

She wrapped her legs around me and nodded, and fisted her hands in my hair and pulled my face to hers. "And mine. I want you to be mine, Adorable. I wish -"

"I'll be whatever you want," I interrupted. "Anything."

"Just mine."

We stopped talking after that. I tried to make her mine, but I knew sex would never be enough. Which is why I was at my parent's house this morning.

xXxXx

"Edward," my father says with an approving nod of his head as Heidi ushers me into the dining room.

Everyone's there, no one's happy. Except mom, who jumps from the table and pulls me into a huge hug. "Hey, mom," I mumble.

"So good to have you home, Eddie," she says, rocking back and forth a little. "I've waited for this day."

"Mom, hey," I say as I try to pull myself out of her arms. She's small but strong and I wonder for a second if I fell in love with someone that reminds me of my mother a little. I don't like the thought.

"Sasha was by yesterday," mom says out of nowhere. "So, I bought some of that lotion you like so much. It's in a bag by the back door. You went through it so fast this time. Dry skin, dear?"

Mom takes my hands in hers to examine them. Felix snickers. Jasper shakes his head sadly. My father clears his throat.

"We were just discussing your return, son," my dad says, nodding to the empty seat to his right.

"The good old prodigal son," someone chuckles. It's Liam, maybe. I'm going to have to learn names, now. I'll be one of them.

I sigh as I take my seat. I never wanted to be in the mob. I try to stay focused on Perky.

"But he didn't really go anywhere," someone else adds. ""Cept collecting trash."

"Gentlemen," my dad says.

"He's kinda like Jesus, if you ask me. Doomed and hanging out with trash and whores and stuff," a guy named James adds with a laugh.

That was Perky's joke. But there's no way I'm going to listen to these asshats talk about her like that. I'm on my feet before I can think straight.

"Shut. The. Hell. Up!" I utter one word with each step until I'm looming over James, hoping like hell I'm looking a little more like the god in the old testament, dangerous and ready to strike him down with vengeance, and stuff.

I hear my mom gasp.

Dad's smiling big.

Felix pulls me away, but pats me on the back.

"Didn't think he had it in him," someone else coughs.

"Pussy'll do that."

"That's enough, gentlemen," my dad announces to everyone present. We're here on business."

"Uh, dad." I turn away from James and walk back to my father. "Before you start, I need to talk to you alone." I realize that I can't wait another minute, I can't chance one more remark like that about Perky.

My father's piercing blue eyes usually have the power to make me run in the other direction. Today I stand my ground for my girl.

"Sorry, son. The time for special favors is before breakfast. Protocol doesn't change because you're here. If you need something, you ask at the table. You ask in front of your family."

This isn't my family.

But I close my eyes and remember the way Perky looked as she came in my arms last night.

"Okay, then," I sigh. I open my eyes and focus. "I want my girlfriend out of the game."

Someone snickers. My dad smiles in a pitying way.

"Sorry, son. You've given her a vacation, but everyone's got to work."

"I don't want her working."

"Belinda Swanson has debts that she needs to repay," dad says dismissively as he digs into his omelet.

"_Who_?" I ask.

"Your whore, son," he says before taking a big bite.

"Per-, I mean, Bell, uh…" I sink into the seat besides him.

My dad shakes his head as he places a hand on my shoulder. He chews, swallows, then licks his lips. "_Isabella_. Maybe you only know her as Isabella."

"Don't tell me how I know her."

"We had a deal, son."

"I need more than I asked for."

"Then you'll give more. Work hard and do as I say and you'll make enough to set her up someplace nice, and you can pay Laurent for private privileges."

"No!"

"_Out_?" dad asks. His blue eyes have turned cool and steely.

"Out," I reply.

"Well, then, I understand _The Trash Men_ have a concert coming up at the end of the month."

"_The Trash Men_ have nothing to do with this!"

Everyone laughs and James stands up and models his Cullenieri Waste Management jacket for those present.

"Not _my_ Trash Men," I add.

Jasper stands to his feet. "I'm a Trash Man, and I'm in," he says proudly, with a nod of his head.

"Face it son, _The Trash Men_ have never been clean. You've been fooling yourself," my father says.

"If I do what you ask, if I ruin the name of _The Trash Men_, then Perky's out?"

My father nods his head.

"Fine. Then, I'm in."

* * *

**A/N: I've had questions. Yes, Adorable 6 or 7, Perky 0, until the shower... Yes, Adorable's dad is a mob boss. Yes, Adorable has a price on his head. I think that's it...**

**Love the reviews! Thanks for voting! Thanks for sticking with this little fic. More? When? Well, trash pick-up is tomorrow! xxx, M**


	20. Geometry

**A/N: To get Jo off the hook...**

**BPOV**

He left a note under an empty bowl on the kitchen table.

_Be back soon. _

_-A_

I couldn't wait, though. I was supposed to have a date tonight. So, I left a note as well.

_For a good time call Perky:_

_(555) 738-1912_

But Laurent's call never came and I have a plan and a mortgage to pay. And even though Adorable's been stealing the show lately and I don't want to even think about fucking anyone else, I can't see a way around it. So, I took the bull by the horns and called Laurent myself. It went straight to voicemail.

I left a message and I waited. After a while, I gave up and ordered Chinese because it reminded me of Adorable.

Now, I keep Adorable's note and my phone next to me as I eat my broccoli and black bean sauce and read my US Magazine. As I leaf through, I thank god that my life isn't as fucked as Charlie Sheen's. He's out of control. I may be a hooker, but I'm focused. I count how many days it's been since my last drink… _Seven_. I haven't had a drop since the scotch that got me through mixing Amun with The Trash Men's set last weekend. I've got seven days on Sheen. I feel pretty proud.

My phone buzzes and I'm sure it's Laurent. When I pick it up, though, it's a text from a number I don't recognize.

**I've been thinking about geometry.**

P: Who is this?

**Maybe physics too.**

P: WHO IS THIS?

**Geometry and physics and talking horses and you. I want to try again. **

I don't hesitate hitting the call button. I guess Adorable got my note. Tonight I've got to wait for Laurent, but I'm more than willing to give Adorable another try.


	21. Monday's Pick Up, Week 4

**More Lyrics from **_**Trash Day**_** by Butch Walker in this one…**

**BPOV**

Adorable:

His favorite Weezer album is _Pinkerton_.

_The Shining_ scared the shit out of him when he was little and he's hated snow and hotels ever since.

He's not a Beleiber, thank god. But on further questioning, he's more than a little jealous of Justin.

He Googled how to make me come during intercourse.

We talked about everything and nothing last night and watched two episodes of Mr. Ed together, over the phone, on Netflix, streaming.

I may have stolen his Jane's Addiction T-shirt and a pair of his boxer briefs, but it was with good reason. I think Adorable will appreciate it, even if it's the most covered up I've been for his bi-weekly pick up.

I wait. I think my tits actually tingle. I play with my nipples and sure enough… I sink into a chair and sigh. I slide my hands into his underwear, I remember his fingers inside me in the shower, then later on his bed, then later on his kitchen table.

I'm interrupted by the sad lament of an unfamiliar voice, and by the rumble of an unknown engine.

_Trash day in Nashville, Tennessee_

_No one can smell this religion but me_

_I see it in hairstyles of young Christian men,_

_That drink, smoke, and fuck like the world's gonna end_

Something is very wrong.

I jump to my feet and rush out the front door and down the drive just in time to see a big blue truck come around the bend. The usually frozen guy, the one I want to call Pop, is on the back singing. But instead of Adorable hanging off the other side, there's a tall, dark-skinned man with long black hair. The task-master's not driving, either.

I march out into the street with my arms folded across my chest and loudly clear my throat, planting myself in the truck's path. It comes to a slow, whining halt.

Pop nods, waves awkwardly and runs over to meet me after he's finished with his verse and can.

"Yoko, hey, what can I do for you?" he asks with a smile, trying not to eye the outfit. He's failing, though. Take note, ladies: guys can't resist a woman in men's clothing. A tie, an unbuttoned oxford, cuffs and cufflinks, topless in a pair of hounds tooth slacks… You wear it, they'll cum.

"Where's Adorable, Pop?" I demand. I don't have time for his ogling.

"Pop?" he asks.

"You're the Rice Krispie Pop to Adorable's Snap," I explain.

"Dude, Jasper _would_ totally be Crackle. You're so right, Yoko."

"Yoko?"

"Sorry, I mean, I don't even know you," Pop apologizes, wringing his work gloves. "That's totally rude of me. I guess I was saying you're the Yoko to his Lennon. I don't know which is better really, Yoko or Perky."

"Perky's cool. Yoko was insane, if you ask me." I'm sure I'm much more grounded than Yoko Ono.

"I completely agree. Sorry. Just Perky. Got it."

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question about Adorable. He said he'd be here."

"He's off the route, Perky. Jasper and, uh, Eddie, or Adorable, or whatever, were moved up the chain of command. I didn't know a thing until this morning."

"Up the chain?"

Pop shrugs his shoulders and gives me his best half-smile. I'm guessing he's never struggled with palsy, because his smile isn't half as charming as Adorable's. "I really don't know a thing, Perky. But we've got to get going. We pick up the trash, you know? Do you have any?"

"Not today, Pop. Not today."

* * *

**A/N: Dude. He didn't tell her. **

**So, I've had questions... We don't know what Adorable's dad's plan is yet. But it involves The Trash Men's show later this month. Aro wants Adorable dead or alive. Geometry = angles. He's studying up on sex.**

**Until next time, xxx, M**


	22. Tuesday's Pick Up

**EPOV**

"Where were you?"

I pick her up in my arms. "Perky."

"You weren't on the truck, and I called and texted, and my god, I turned on the news and it's like watching the apocalypse in slow motion. Japan and earthquakes and tsunamis and radiation and the Middle East, and, and, and housing prices are at their lowest levels in ten years. Ten years! And you didn't answer your phone."

I kiss her. She kisses back, long and angry, and then finally, relieved. Her body relaxes against mine. She's wearing a tiny, silky white robe and I make sure it falls to the ground.

"What happened to you?" she asks when my lips move to her neck.

"Shh," I whisper and I can see little Goosebumps on the surface her soft skin.

"God, I missed you," she says, wrapping her arms and legs tighter.

I kick the door closed, her lips find my ear and my knees go a little weak, so I lean against the door. I've got her ass in my hands, her tits against my chest, and I've got a raging hard-on that I think maybe, finally, I know how to use. Google's given me the strength to pull it together and take matters into my own hands. I hold her close as I mount the stairs.

My Jane's Addiction T-shirt is lying on her purple pillow. And then Perky is too. Her creamy skin, dark brown hair and red lips against all that purple silk is nearly too much. I close my eyes, because otherwise I'll probably come on contact. It feels like a lifetime since I've seen her.

"I missed you, too, Perky," I begin to explain. "So much. It's just been like -"

"Fifty hours, Adorable. Fifty hours." I chance a peak at Perky. She's slid her feet up the bed so that her knees are slightly bent, her legs spread just enough. I'm between them in a split second, and she's tugging at my shirt, trying to push my jeans down with her feet. Her tits are in my hands, then between my lips, her pussy is grinding, looking for Mr. Ed.

Not yet. I'm on a mission. I move my mouth from her breast, over her ribs. I stall at her belly button, then continue on down, over her flat tummy, across to her hip. She tries to shimmy and buck, but I hold her down. One hand's still playing with her tit, the other lifts a leg over my shoulder.

Is skin always so soft? Do pussies always smell like salt and soap? They can't all be so pretty.

My tongue: from back to front, buried between her lips, until I feel it. Small, hard, warm. Her clit. She hisses and she tries to move again. And then I do my best to replicate a blowjob, but on a small scale. Like Perky did for me: with lips and tongue and teeth and suction. She likes the suction, she starts to writhe and mumble something about horses.

"Not yet," I say to her clit. I add a finger. She's wet and slippery, and her pretty little snatch is trapped: by my mouth on one side, and my finger pad on the other.

Her hands pull my hair, her heels dig into my back, she's wetter and her back arches… and I stop.

"Ohmygod. Adorable."

I slide up the silky sheets and pull her on top of me. Perky looks woozy and flushed. Her nipples are hard and rose-colored, and her pussy's warm and wet and wrapped around my dick. I slide back and forth and she hisses.

"Baby?" I ask and move myself and pick her up a little so my head's in the right spot. That gets Perky's attention.

"The twelfth time's a charm," she says with a smile, lifting her hips, slipping over, drawing my cock inside.

My body goes stock-still. Eight times tables are the hardest and I find they just barely do the trick. Perky leans forward, her hair tickles my face, her lips place whisper soft kisses on my eyelids.

"Promise you'll call me back from now on?" she asks with a lift and a dip and a slide.

My hands fist the silk sheets.

"Uh huh," I manage.

Her tits slide against my chest, my balls go from warm to drafty and damp, to warm again with another slide, another twist. Another pass and I'll be done for. I let go of the silk and I grab her hips. Perky gasps and tries to wiggle, but I hold her still.

"No."

"But, Adorable…"

"Perky, listen. Angles… With you on top, sitting up…" I lift her slowly and I try to imagine where my dick's rubbing. She tries to twist and turn, but I think it's in the wrong direction.

"No, Perky, here. Like this." I try again, and it looks like she's wincing, in pain.

Fuck the demonstration. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. She's breathing hard.

"Maybe I got it wrong. Fucking Google. Did I hurt you?"

"Adorable. No."

"Let me make you come."

"Adorable," she sighs again, and plays with my chest hair and kisses my shoulder.

"I was sure…" I start to say, but she seems to fold in on herself with my words, so I shut up.

She shudders and sighs and moves her hips a little. Mr. Ed is immediately on alert.

"Let me make him talk for you?" I beg.

"I make _other _people come, Adorable."

"You make me come," I correct.

"But not me," she adds. She pinches my nipple and it feels good, but it hurts at the same time. I try to hold on to her, to her words, to understand. I'm scared to make her understand. I'm scared. I'm scared.

"You," I say in a low whisper. I run my hand through her hair, down her back. "I want it to be you, Perky. More than anything. Let me be the one?"

She's plastered against me, but slowly her body unwinds, her hands find my biceps.

I move my dick inside of her and she moves a little, just a fraction, and sucks in a breath of air. "Let me be the one?" I ask again, I move my hips again. She moves back.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, and her eyes are like big brown circles of frightened light right in front of my face. "Why?" she asks. This time she makes the first move, and I move back, and her eyes shut tight.

"Because," I say as I buck my hips. "Because, Perky -" She moves, she sighs, she shifts backward and arches. "You're the one for me." My hand finds her clit, hidden between us. We move together.

"Why" she asks as our bodies bump and slide and bump and slide, as she pushes her chest up and out and her lips part and her chest rises and falls.

"Because I love you."

And her head's thrown back, and her body strikes mine so hard that if she were flint I'd be on fire, and her hands clench so tight that I'm sure I'll have bruises. She's gasping, little sounds bubble out of her mouth, and her walls contract around me.

I did it. I made her come.

And when she opens her eyes and gazes down at me, I think I've done more. I think maybe I've opened her heart.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you's and mad love is in order: **

**To the reader that shared about losing her virginity to her trash guy. To the reader that named her new puppy after Mr. Adorable. To Twifan UK for interviewing me about Rubbish for The Giggle/Snort Files: http : / / www . gigglesnort . net/articles . php?article_id=4. To whoever decided to make Rubbish a featured fic on TWCS. And to all of the readers that voted to make Rubbish one of the Fics of the Week on The Lemonade Stand. **

**THANK YOU!**


	23. Waking Up

**BPOV**

"You're pretty in the morning."

I open my eyes and sigh. _He_ is pretty in the morning. Adorable, wrapped in my sheets, his legs tangled with mine. My body tingles to life as I blink in the bright morning light, as I remember.

The girlfriend experience. I've offered it hundreds of times, but I'd just had it for the first time. Take it from me: the experience doesn't compare to the real thing. It _was_ the real thing. Wasn't it?

"Adorable?" I ask with a kiss.

"Yeah?" he pulls me on top of him.

"Again?" I ask. He's relentless. He's twenty-two. He's spectacular.

"I'm always up for more," he says with a playful rock of his hips.

"I've noticed," I giggle. "Adorable?"

"Perky." He cups my tits. He's funny in the morning.

"What am I to you?"

"Huh?" Adorable does this effortless crunch thingy so that he's suddenly sitting with me on his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist. "What?" he asks, playing with my hair… both of us with our messy morning hair. I love his messy morning hair.

"What am I to you?" I ask again. I'm surprised at how much courage it takes to get the words out a second time.

Adorable blinks. "Um, well -"

"I don't want to be just some whore you're in starry-eyed love with."

He flinches. "I don't want that either."

"So?"

"So, love me back, Perky."

"That's not what I meant." But he's not listening. He's tipping me backwards.

"Love me back," he murmurs, all low and sexy.

He's climbing on top of me.

"We could love each other," he insists as he kisses my neck.

He's almost…

"We could be happy together."

He is. Inside.

And I make little noises and I squirm and I tilt my pelvis just right. I want it again. I can't get enough. I have license to let go. I want to let go. I _want_ to feel like this with Adorable. Repeatedly. Indefinitely. Consistently. I wrap my legs around him and I hang on and I stop thinking and I just… let go.

And so does he. We're like the world's most amazing, super fast-coming couple.

He pants and I laugh. I can't stop. I hold him and laugh.

"That's going to mess with my head, Perky."

I keep laughing as I hold him tight. He's too good and I don't want to let go.

"Dude, I have to go."

"What?" I ask, alarmed, my happy thoughts shattered. "Why?"

"I've got to get to work."

Right. Pop said Adorable moved up the chain. I shudder. "What kind of work, Adorable?"

His eyes dart towards the clock then back to me.

"Important work."

"But, with your dad? I thought you said -"

He silences me with his lips, with his fingers, with his never ending cock pressed against me. My body is assaulted with pleasure. I'm stunned. He's good.

"Sometimes, being a man means doing things you don't want to do, I think."

"What don't you want to do?" I ask, my hands exploring his back, his ass.

"I don't want to leave."

His tongue gently probes, so do his long fingers, and just as I'm gearing up for another romp with Mr. Ed, Adorable sits up and starts to gather his clothes. I've never wanted a man to stay before. I can't believe that he won't.

I crawl up behind Adorable and wrap my arms and legs around him. I kiss his back, his neck, I press my very awake and very excited pussy against him. "When can I see you again?" I ask. It would be unnerving how much I want him if it didn't feel so good.

"Tomorrow?" he asks. "Do you have anything tomorrow?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. My pimp is missing. I haven't worked in over a week. And it's hard to care with Adorable in my bed. I feel unmoored and ecstatic. Maybe it's good that he goes for a while.

I try to convince myself of that as I follow him down the stairs, as his large hands run appreciatively over my breasts, down my sides, around to my ass, as I notice the half-awake Mr. Ed harnessed in Adorable's jeans. It's silly that it hurts so much to see him go.

"Tomorrow?" I ask, even though I really should find a date.

"Deal," he answers in a whisper, his lips brushing over mine.

"I think maybe I love you, Adorable."

He smiles. It lights up the room. His hands take firmer hold of my ass.

"Then it's worth it."

* * *

**A/N: Tomorrow...**


	24. A Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow

**A/N: Do I even have to say that I didn't write _Raspberry Beret_? Props go to Prince for that one. There, I said it.**

**

* * *

**

**EPOV**

"Later, when we're alone, I'll just wear these," Perky says with a big smile, placing her fingers behind her sparkling green earlobes and shaking her head a little so the earrings catch the candlelight.

We met at a fancy Japanese restaurant and I found her in the lobby in this low cut, really short black dress with skinny little straps that showed off how perky she was, that showed off her legs that went on for miles. I guess it also showed off her sparkly green jewels, but really, I could hardly notice those things compared to the rest of her: My Perky. My girl.

"Adorable?"

"What?" I ask, startled back to the present. It's hard to focus tonight. Dinner's passed in a blur of pretty brown eyes, small hands holding mine, and games of footsie. I've had one too many Sapporo's. I've had a lot on my mind.

"And this," she says fondling a big green pendant hanging right between her pretty tits. "I'll leave this on too, so we can have a proper St. Patty's Day fuck."

"Perky."

Her face falls. She places her hands in her lap and gives me puppy dog eyes. "Fuck's too harsh, isn't it? St. Patty's Day… screw?"

She raises her eyebrows, a cautious smile on her lips and then she takes a sip of her club soda and lime. "Or maybe a roll in the hay? I _almost_ have hay out back. Or a ride on the horse? You, know, Mr. Ed…"

Perky's foot slides up my calf and finds a foothold between my knees. "Our own personal pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? I was thinking I could pin a little shamrock right -"

"Perky!"

"Adorable." She looks flustered.

"Are you okay, Perky?"

"What do you mean?" She leans across the table and I struggle to keep my eyes on her face. No bra. Definitely no bra.

Flashes of that gruesome scene from last night are enough to keep my mind off her tits. Nothing my dad does should shock me. But it did.

"I'm here with you," Perky adds. "Of course I'm okay."

I think she means it. Her hands slide across the table to hold mine. Again. She's liked holding my hands tonight. It's reassuring.

"But I worry about you," she confesses quietly.

"Me?"

I've been worrying about Perky for the past twenty-four hours. And here she is: smiling, pretty, happy to see me. It's obvious that she doesn't know. It freaks me the fuck out.

"Yes, _you_, Adorable. One morning you're singing on the back of a trash truck and the next pick up you're gone and I have Pop calling me Yoko."

"What does your dad have to do with this? And why does he call you Yoko? Is he a Lennon fan?" I'm bewildered.

"No, _Pop_. You know… the frozen guy, your bass player."

Right. Snap, Crackle and Pop. Rice Krispies. For once I haven't been thinking about cereal. I've had things like bloody murder on my mind. Wait, Emmett called Perky what?

"_Emmett_ called you _Yoko_?" I ask, flabbergasted.

Emmett wasn't supposed to know anything. Shit. What the hell does he know? If that Wolf they stuck on the back of the truck said anything… what? What the hell would I do? Start shit with The Wolves? Say something to my dad? Make Emmett leave town?

I slam my fist on the tabletop.

"That. That's what I mean," Perky huffs. She grabs my fist and pulls it to her side of the table. She kisses my clenched hand. "Why'd you leave The Trash Men, Adorable?"

"I didn't."

"Then why am I Yoko?"

"I don't know what Emmett was thinking, Perky. Maybe he just noticed how much I like you."

Perky sighs and kisses my fist again. I unfurl my fingers to stroke her shimmery lips.

"I like you, too, Adorable. A lot." And with those words my fingertip falls between her lips. Somehow, a little suck on her part pushes all the air out of my lungs.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask when I can catch my breath.

Perky stands and smoothes her skirt. I stumble a little as I rush around to her side of the table. I don't make it in time to pull out her chair, but I take her hand and kiss her lips to make up for it. My free hand drifts over her ass and she sighs into my mouth and her body relaxes against mine.

"You _are_ ready to go," she whispers shifting subtly back and forth. I swear I can almost hear Mr. Ed whinny.

Perky grabs my hand and pulls me through the restaurant and into the parking lot.

"How'd you get here?" she asks.

"Um, a, uh, driver," I admit. I try not to notice the shadow lurking near the back by the trashcans.

"A driver?" her eyes are wide.

I shrug. "Driver slash bodyguard," I clarify.

"Whatthefuck, Adorable?"

"Don't make me say it out loud, Perky. Not here, in public," I whisper.

She looks excited and worried all at once. "Okay, then. You're coming with me."

Perky opens the passenger door for me, then strides around to the driver's side and slides in. She guns the engine. Her legs are so long, so bare, so pale against the black leather. I touch one, just barely skimming my fingertip along her thigh and sigh. Silk. Everything about her is silk.

Perky shifts in her seat and takes her hand off the gearshift just long enough to move my hand upward. Up. Up. Up. Ohmygod. I try not to pant; she's panty-less. And wet. Shit, she could really ruin the leather. I cup her bare cooch and try to catch her wetness in my hand.

"You think your guard-slash-driver'll try to follow me?" she asks as she shifts in her seat and moves her soft lips against my palm.

"They won't try, Perky, they just will."

"We'll see about that."

We peel out of the lot, and Perky shows me just what her Audi's made of. It's got pick-up, or power, or torque, I don't really know. It's just a really fast car and Perky really knows how to drive it. It takes turns like it's on rails.

It's hot, she's hot and wet and soft and I can't help it, I slide a finger inside. Perky presses against my hand and presses her foot to the metal and weaves in and out of small side streets until she makes it to the highway. Finally on a straightaway, she floors it. She's smiling a little, her lips slightly parted, and as we fly past all the other cars on the road I go for it with my finger. I hear a little sound in the back of Perky's throat and her chest shudders and my hand's coated in warm wetness and I'm harder than I've ever been before in my whole life.

I add another finger and air whistles through her teeth. The Audi lurches just slightly. I twist and rub. Her eyelids flutter and I see her sneaking a look at me out of the corner of her eyes.

"Fine, then," she whispers.

Seconds later we pull off onto a deserted side street and Perky shifts the car into neutral on the dusty shoulder of the road. She glances in the rearview mirror and smiles. With a quick look in my direction, she switches on the radio. Old eighties pop fills the air; it's something I kind of recognize, but I can't bring myself to care.

With a sigh and a giggle, Perky shimmies off my hand. Then she swivels around, climbs up on her knees and peers through the back window. She's smiling and bouncy and Prince's voice fills the car's recycled air.

_I was working part time in a five-and-dime_

_My boss was Mr. McGee…_

"You think your bodyguard's followed us, Adorable?" Perky asks with this carefree air, like I didn't just finger-fuck her at high speeds.

I shake my head. She's totally a much better driver than Felix, and he wouldn't have been expecting that _Fast and Furious_ performance.

"Prince?" I ask.

She glances over at me. "You're dangerous, Adorable?"

"Not usually," I hedge.

"Why do you have a driver-slash-bodyguard?"

"Stuff with my dad."

"The price on your head?"

"That's part of it."

"What's the other part?" she asks.

"Perky…" I slide my hand up the back of her thigh and I watch her knees go a little weak. My hand moves slowly upward until I'm cupping her ass. "God, you're so hot."

One long leg straddles the console. Another leg makes the same journey and she's straddling me. "What've you done, Adorable?"

I hold her bare hips in my hand. I can smell the salt in the air. She leans over, but aims for my neck. "Talk to me Adorable," she murmurs as her lips and teeth slide over my skin, as her hands confidently unbuckle my belt, unzip my fly.

Is she kidding? She wants me to talk? I'm fucking speechless. Only Mr. Ed has any chance of saying anything at the moment.

_Raspberry beret_

_And if it was warm she wouldn't wear much more_

_Raspberry beret…_

"I think I looo-oove him," Perky whisper-sings along with Prince as her hands firmly free Mr. Ed.

"Ohmygod," I gasp.

_Built like she was_

_She had the nerve 2 ask me_

_If I planned 2 do her any harm_

"So you're dangerous, Adorable," she mumbles with her lips against my chest. "Why?"

And she lowers herself onto me. Holy. Hell.

"What are you doing?" she whispers.

"Fucking," I blurt out.

Up slowly. Slamming down. Up slowly. _Fuck_.

"What are you doing?" she whispers again.

"You. Perky." I'm not making any sense. I can't.

_But I could tell when she kissed me_

_She knew how 2 get her kicks_

"God, I like you so much," I mumble. "But, but…"

Up slowly with a tilt. Down hard. Up, tilting, twisting.

"_Fuck_," I mutter.

"I am," she smiles. "I think I looo-ove him," she coos with the song.

"God. I do too," I mumble against her lips as I take her face in my hands. I kiss her hard as she works over me.

She stops the inquisition when I start moving with her, when I pull those little straps off her shoulders, when I take the tip of her tit between my lips and bite a little and suck a lot.

_But I tell ya_

_If I had the chance 2 do it all again_

_I wouldn't change a stroke_

_Cause baby I'm the most_

_With a girl as fine as she was then_

Prince is screaming and Perky's gasping and I'm clutching her face in one hand and her ass in the other, and she's wet and I'm wet and…

_I think I - I think I - I think I love her_

With a crash and a yelp and one final thrust we come all over each other.

xXxXx

Perky's collapsed against me. Headlights flash past on the highway way off to our left. Her skin's soft and warm and coated in sweat. She breathes hard. I pull her dress up to cover her tits. I don't want anyone else seeing those.

She thinks she loves me and I love her.

But I owe her a big explanation, and I'm scared of it. My dad did things very wrong and too soon. But it's my fault. And she thinks she loves me and I love her.

"Perky," I whisper.

"Adorable?" she smiles in that high kind of way that she does after she comes. But this time I'm not proud.

"What kind of stuff would you want to do… if, if you weren't a, um -"

"Hooker?" she finishes flatly. Her finger is tracing outlines on my chest.

"Yeah. What would you do?"

"Two months, Adorable. In two months I'll own my house. Laurent will sign it over to me and I'll have some money saved in the bank. I don't know, really. But I guess I'll find out then."

"Two months?" I ask, incredulous.

"It's not that long. I mean, you and I, Adorable, we lived our wholes lives without each other. You can wait two months, can't you?"

"You were going to be out in two months?"

"I _am_ out in two months," she corrects.

"Shit."

"Adorable?"

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" I pound the seat.

"Enough, Adorable. Talk to me." Perky pushes off my chest and sits up straight. I have no choice but to look her in the eye.

"Laurent's dead, Perky."

She snaps to attention. "What?"

"He's dead," I repeat.

Perky shakes her head with wide, unfocussed eyes. I swallow. I'm scared. So fucking scared.

"What happened?" she finally asks. "How do you know Laurent?"

"My dad," I manage.

"Your dad _what_?" she demands as she grabs my shoulders. "What did your _dad_ do?"

"He fed Laurent to The Wolves," I mutter. It's hard to admit this with Perky on my lap. We're still connected and I love her and I'm starting to see how I royally fucked everything up, and I want to crawl away and hide.

But I can't; she's pinning me to the passenger seat.

"The Wolves?" she asks.

"I Lupi Neri," I clarify. "They've wanted him forever. My dad protected Laurent in exchange for a fee."

"Why did your dad stop protecting him?" She blinks. She stares me down.

"I wanted you out," I rasp.

"_You _got him killed?" Perky scoots back and leans against the dash. Mr. Ed is small and wet and ashamed.

"I didn't ask for that, exactly."

"Why would you do this? Why didn't you at least talk to me first, Adorable?"

"I thought I could get you out."

"_I _was getting me out!"

"I didn't know."

"Holy shit. The house. _My_ house."

"Perky." I go to touch her shoulder but she slaps my hand away.

"He was a decent guy, Adorable. Now what am I going to do? It's in his name, and it's not paid off, and I don't even have a job anymore!"

"Let me help."

"Oh, no you don't! I've had enough of your help."

"Let me -"

"What? So I can owe your father? Wait. Is _this_ why you're off the route? _You_ owe your father?"

I cringe. I bite my lip. "I love you, Perky."

"Holy shit!"

"Please, I didn't mean…"

"What, so I'm like Julia Roberts or something to you? You've got connections, so you're going to swoop down from your trash truck and save me? Where's your white limo, Richard-Adorable-Gere? Only, I don't have a fire escape, so you'll have to scale a wall to get to my window with those cheap-ass last-minute flowers you buy me. And I don't have red hair! And the ladies on Rodeo Drive love me! And I know how to use silverware! And you never paid. At least Gere paid. And, and, and…"

Perky starts to cry. Her shoulders shake. Tears trail down her face. I'm trapped between her thighs.

After a moment she climbs back into the driver's seat and starts the car.

She drives to my apartment without another word.

"Perky -"

"No!"

"Isab -"

"NO!"

"Belinda?"

Perky jumps. Her head snaps in my direction and she looks like she's just seen a ghost.

"Get out," she hisses.

"Please."

She shakes her head. She's trying not to cry. "Out. Now."

I see Felix's car waiting around the corner. There's a light on inside my apartment. That would be Jasper. I don't see any alternative at the moment.

"I lov -"

"Shhh!" she shushes me, cutting off my words.

The second the door clicks shut, Perky shows me just how fast her car can go. She was taking it easy on me before.

* * *

**They couldn't all be funny, could they? Next update: Saturday. **

**Much love for all the reviews, xxx, M**


	25. Purple Haze

**A/N: My sincere apologies for not posting this on Saturday! ff . net has been experiencing difficulties, which have gotten in the way of timely posting. I will post the next couple of chapters at the appropriate times over the next couple of days, and we'll just pretend that break never happened. Okay? I hope it's okay. (Many thanks to Butterfly Betty for letting e know how to fool the system and post this chapter!) **

**So, today is Saturday in Rubbish land...**

**BPOV**

"I don't get it," Rose announces as she flounces on my bed. Even though my brain is functioning at half speed, I somehow manage an internal narrative rhyme. Weird.

Anyway, I'm not surprised Rose isn't catching my drift. I'm sure I'm not explaining things as well as I should be. I'm drifting in a sea of tomato juice, with a pounding headache and a rats' nest of dirty hair. I can't manage logic at the moment. _Tomato juice_; I can manage tomato juice. "Where's the hell's my drink?" I mumble.

Rose passes me the glass.

I feebly sip my tomato juice and Worcester and follow it with a bite of celery. A virgin Bloody Mary is a piss poor substitute for the real thing - let me tell you. It started out as a proper drink, but after quickly re-evaluating my jobless _and_ homeless state, I jumped back on the wagon. I mean, at this point, Sheen's clearly winning. He still has a home… or twelve.

"I think I lost you for a minute there, Bell," Rose chirps, patting my knee. "You okay?"

Suddenly her big blue eyes and shiny red lips are inches from my face.

"No," I sigh as I slide down smooth purple silk to get away from her. "Not even close, Rose." I'm flat on my back, probably more hung over than I've ever been in my life. I'm full of tomato juice, and the guy I thought I loved, the guy I maybe loved, the only guy I've ever thought I might ever love is full of shit. I'm sure this is rock bottom, just when I thought I'd been so close to the top. I crane my neck to take another sip of my drink. It's awful.

"I hate just showing up like this, Bell. I can see it's not the best time. But I couldn't get in touch with Laurent, and your phone kept going to voicemail…"

I _had_ to turn my phone off. Adorable couldn't take a hint.

**I'm sorry**

**Please talk to me**

**I miss you**

**I was an idiot**

**I AM an idiot**

**I'll change**

**I'll try**

**I really love you**

**Mr. Ed misses you**

**I miss you**

**Your smile**

**Your eyes**

**OK. Your tits, too. **

**Perky. **

**The way you drive. When did you learn how to drive like that?**

**Talk to me.**

**Please.**

He's persistent. I smile, remembering just how persistent. How many times he tried. How he Googled my cooch to make me cum.

"Bell?"

"There's not a lot to understand, Rose!" I practically yell. "Laurent's dead. He's not going to fix us up with dates, like, ever again!"

"Whoa, calm down there."

"Sorry," I mumble and cover my eyes with my arm. "I didn't mean to snap."

"Do you know why The Wolves killed him?" she asks tentatively.

"I don't know." It's the safest answer.

"Do you think they'll come after us too?"

"No, nothing like that."

"How can you be sure?"

I shrug and roll over and bury my head in the pillows. The less Rose knows, the better.

"And why the heck are you wearing that ratty old T-shirt?" she adds.

I don't know the answer to that one. It doesn't even smell like him anymore. I pull it down hoping that she doesn't ask about the boxer briefs too. I'm pathetic.

And I need a plan. I don't have a plan. I have a hangover.

"And somehow this whole thing means that you lose the house to the bank?" Rose asks.

I don't look up; I just nod into the pillows.

"Well, maybe we could find the bank manager and kind of, you know, _persuade_ him to see things your way. Me, you, fishnets, some strap-ons, some -"

"I'm not screwing the bank manager, Rose."

"Why do you have to make things so hard, Bell?" Rose giggles and nudges me. "Haha, get it? So hard? You're a hooker… so you make things -"

"Got it, Rose. Got it. Not screwing the bank manager. But I make things hard. It's ironic. Next idea?"

"My friend Destiny knows this actor that's totally sympathetic to hookers. Maybe if she could hook you up with him, and if you told him about the house…"

I shake my head. I'm afraid to ask. I have to ask.

"What actor?" I ask.

"He's the one that's been on all those news shows late -"

"Oh my fucking god! I'm not asking _Sheen_ for favors!"

"Well, then, I've got nothing. Like, seriously nothing, Bell.

The doorbell rings and I bury my head deeper in purple silk and down. I wish I could live buried in purple silk and down. It would be so much easier. I hear the clatter of heels as Rose jumps to her feet. "Who do you think it is? Should we escape out back?"

"Oh my god, Rose. Just go downstairs and look through the peephole."

"The peephole. Right." I peek out from the pillow to see Rose striding across the bedroom. The sunlight glinting off all the gold sequins on her dress hits me like an ice pick between the eyes. I groan and cover my head with a pillow, but wonder if I might accidentally smother myself. I make a little crack for breathing, just to be sure.

I leave my plush purple world when I hear Rose coming back up the stairs. She's carrying the biggest bouquet of purple and white flowers I've ever seen. There are white roses and lilies and lots of purple irises, and Rose is sporting this huge, goofy grin.

She places the flowers on my nightstand. They take up the entire nightstand. They take over the room.

Rose clears her throat and holds up a little white card. She can't wipe the grin off of her face.

"Rose?"

She ignores me and starts to read out loud.

"_These aren't cheap and they were chosen with thought. I thought they'd match you and your home. I never thought I was Gere. (I had to Google it. You meant Pretty Woman, right?)_

I peel myself off of the bed. Rose takes a step away from me, holds the card a little higher and keeps reading.

"_And you're no Julia_. _You're totally prettier than she is. And he's way cooler and maybe even more fucked up than me. So forgive me, please? Let's figure this out together? Mr. Ed needs petting, and I need to see your smile. ~Mr. Adorable_"

I practically tackle Rose and pluck the card out of her hand.

"Bell?" she asks. "Is there something you've been keeping from me?"

"I met a guy, Rose." I don't look up. Adorable has that typical guy chicken-scratch penmanship. It's more adorable coming from his fingers, somehow.

"Mr. Adorable?" she asks and waggles her eyebrows.

"He's a garbage man."

Rose snorts and I glower at her.

"Sorry," she squeaks.

"It's okay, he was an ass. He was so sweet."

"He_ is_ so sweet," she corrects.

"And he _is_ an ass, all at the same time," I add.

"Most guys are, I think," Rose offers. "Oh! I almost forgot! There's more!" Rose runs back out of the room and I stop hating Adorable long enough to smell the roses. I finger an iris. With its soft fluttery petals it kind of looks like a pretty purple vagina. Adorable really is really sweet.

Rose lumbers back into the bedroom carrying a large gift basket in her hands.

"Maybe you can explain this, Bell?"

The basket is packed with plums, and eggplants, and cabbages, and concord grapes. There are jars of jellies and preserves, and a few jars of mayo too. And dried coconut flakes, and marshmallow fluff, and a gallon of milk, and a loaf of white bread.

My heart flutters and I smile. I can't believe that Adorable managed to make me smile - today of all days, even after he'd been such an immature ass and ruined my life.

"I don't get it," Rose says picking through the basket.

"Some things don't make any sense, Rose. Some things are just kind of funny and sweet. Like my white and purple house and my new matching white and purple gift basket. Sometimes people just like each other. And sometimes they fuck up."

"What did he do that was so awful, Bell?"

"He ruined my life by trying to fix it."

"At least he was trying," she offers with a shrug.

Adorable _had_ been trying. He tried so hard. He… well, I don't know what he did, really. He sold himself for me. How the hell did he think that was going to work? He was an idiot. And I think that idiot loved me.

I'm still mad. I'm still _really_ mad, but suddenly I'm worried, too. And I'm hung over, and smelly, and wearing Adorable's things. And I'm clueless. And I'm not ready to talk to him.

Not _ready_ to talk to him? When did I start planning on talking to him?

Never.

Maybe.

But I'm totally going to have a marshmallow fluff and jelly sandwich with some milk.

And I'm going to shower.

And I'm going to come up with a plan.

And I'm probably not going to change out of the boxers. I mean, Adorable was supposed to be the brains of the operation. I couldn't go holding things against Mr. Ed, now. Could I?

_Mr. Ed needs petting. _

I sigh. I feel the sudden need to be alone with my fingers, and that eggplant's looking just about the right size to... The doorbell rings again, interrupting my thoughts.

"More deliveries?" Rose asks.

"Can you get it again, Rose? I'm gonna get up and shower and try to pull my shit together." _And try to pull one off._

"No problem," she says and swings her hips pushes out her tits as she leaves the room. "The delivery guy _was_ kind of cute. No trash man, but -"

I throw a pillow at her on the way out.

xXxXx

In the shower, naked under the spray, I pretend my fingers are his fingers. I'm shameless, I guess. But he has such long fingers and he was such a quick study. It doesn't mean I'm going to call him. It means… it means…

"Hey! You can't just bust in here!" I hear Rose shout. "I'm gonna call the cops!"

"Somehow I doubt that," comes the reply.

My fingers freeze. It feels like the shower water's run cold. Two sets of footsteps pound up the stairs. I turn off the water and grab a towel. The bathroom door is thrown open.

"Bell, I tried to stop her."

Rose is shoved out of the way by someone half her size and twice her age.

"Alice?"

* * *

**A/N: Next update... Tomorrow evening (ff . net gods willing). xxx, M**


	26. Snap, Crackle, Pop

**A/N: Thanks for being patient with the ff . net issues...**

**EPOV**

I don't answer the knock at the door. Knowing Jasper, he'll let himself in. He does, and I don't look up as he makes himself at home.

"Well, hello to you too, sunshine," he chuckles, finding a chair.

I grunt. I've been staring at the unanswered texts on my phone like it's some kind of connection between Perky and I. I do the same with the emailed receipt from the florist. Then I check on the package from Amazon. The first season of _Mr. Ed_ staring Alan Young and Connie Hines will be arriving at Perky's house on Monday. Season Two will be there Tuesday. There's one season for every day of the coming week, until Friday. Amazon suggests I go with a season of _Francis the Talking Mule_ after that. I'm not so sure.

"You ready for practice?" Jasper asks the back of my head.

"What's the difference?" Seriously, it's not like the band's even going to be around in another week.

He pounds the table in frustration. "It's your undying dedication to _The Trash Men_ that's the key to this whole set-up, Edward!"

"You really think Aro and The Volturi are watching that closely that they'll know about today's practice?"

"The Volturi are _always_ watching. You know this."

"Twenty-two years they're watching, and I'm still standing."

"Because your dad has your back, Edward. Once they think your dad's walked away… Once they think they can get you alone-"

"Got it, Jazz. Dad's already repeated the plan a million times."

"And it's a good plan, Edward. You're supposed to be angry with him and you _are _angry with him, aren't you?"

"You have no fucking idea, Jasper." The word angry doesn't come close. Super-angry. Angry to the tenth degree. I don't know. Angry to the max. With my dad. With myself.

Jasper gets up and rifles through the kitchen cabinets while I struggle to quantify my anger. He comes out with a box of Rice Krispies. I'm dying to say something so I can call him Crackle like Perky does, but I'm pretty sure it would hurt too much, like a Rice Krispie treat to the heart.

"So, it's working, then," Jasper offers as he scavenges for a clean bowl and a spoon. "You're angry. You skipped brunch. Next step is Aro and The Trash Men. I won't let you fuck this up, Edward."

"I already did, Jazz. I already did."

The quiet melody of Snap, Crackle and Popping competes with Prince's Greatest Hits Album as Jasper fills his bowl with milk. Perky. Everything reminds me of her.

"Stop being so dramatic, Edward. Everything's going exactly as planned. Laurent's out of the way. We've made an alliance with The Wolves. I mean, who would have ever guessed that the Cullenieri's and The Wolves would work together? Now, all that's left is Aro and the Volturi. Another week, and our territory will expand by fifty percent, all thanks to you, and me, and The Trash Men."

"But my girl, Jasper. I screwed up everything. She won't even talk to me."

"Listen to me, Edward. Hookers come and go, but family is forever. Cullenieri Waste Management is forever."

"That sounds naïve, Jasper."

"I'm naïve? You fell for a hooker. It's the oldest story in the book."

"What book?"

"Whatever."

I don't even have a picture of her. She doesn't exist on-line. Belinda Swanson used to play girls' LaCrosse fifteen years ago three states away. There are no pictures; there's no way to know if it was her. Somehow I doubt it. The chicks that played LaCrosse at my school were nothing like Perky.

I've never met anyone like Perky. I want her back. A lot.

And I want to fix things, but I have no idea how. I have a feeling that I should talk to her, though, before I try anything else. I generally only make mistakes once. Big mistakes. Big, naive, retarded mistakes.

"You're right, Jazz," I admit.

"About hookers?"

"No. About naivety."

"Whatever. Come on, dude. Emmett's waiting."

"Emmett. Shit, Jasper. You ever think that this plan could get him killed?" I don't mention that I have a pretty good idea Emmett knows something. That could definitely get him off'ed.

"No one's going to be gunning for the bass player," Jasper says dismissively as he dumps the rests of his soggy cereal down the drain. "Dude, you ever notice how soggy Rice Krispies look like brain matter?"

I ignore him. I've never seen brain matter. "It's not just Emmett, either. This could hurt our Trash Fans, Jasper. Literally. Not just break their hearts. People could die."

"Maybe you should have thought about that instead of your hooker when you agreed to this."

I've had enough. I haven't moved from my bed in over a day, but I'm across the apartment and in Jasper's face in less than a second, holding him by his curly blonde, girly hair.

"Don't call her that, Crackle."

He swallows his last mouthful of cereal.

"But that's what she is," he manages.

"Not anymore. Do you hear me? Not anymore. That woman is better than the both of us. So you'll speak about her with respect from now on." The words come out low and threatening, and given the fact that I've got about a foot on Crackle, I think I might be intimidating.

"Yeah, man. Sure."

I let him go. I mean, we're supposed to be friends, kind of.

"Fine," Jasper huffs straightening his clothes. "Now you're up, you've got that angst out of your system, let's get to practice, man."

"I don't know if I'm still in, Jazz."

"Dude, Edward, you have to be. It's all been set in motion. You don't go through with this, and one way or another, man, you won't be just out, you'll be out for good. Snuffed out. Taken out. Swimming with the-"

"Yeah, Jazz, got it."

I find my track shoes and a hoody, then find a toothbrush and some deodorant.

"Good choice, Edward."

"Whatever, Jasper."

I still want out of the plan, but as long as there's any chance in hell that Perky might see me again, I'm better off alive than dead.

* * *

**A/N: Some questions: 1) Who's Alice? Mentioned earlier, Alice is Perky's big sister. 2) Why doesn't Perky let/Adorable just find a way to pay off the house? Perky doesn't want to owe Adorable's dad. I think that's it. Maybe. **

**Next update: Tomorrow morning, bright and early. xxx, M**


	27. Monday's Pick Up, Week 5

**_Wind of Change_ is by The Scorpions, not me…**

**BPOV**

I'm up before the sun. I can't sleep. I keep glancing at the clock in anticipation.

Minutes tick by slowly. Shadows change along the wall.

I hear Rose snoring in the spare room next door.

It turns out she's not a financial wiz, and without Laurent, she's got nowhere to go and no money to get there. We're not exactly friends, but I can't throw her out on her sparkly ass. Seriously, everything Rose owns sparkles. I gave her that insight about men and sparkles once, and she's taken it to new, obscene levels. The minute I get my life in order I'm taking her to the mall to teach her a thing or two.

Sadly, clothing advice is all I have to offer. I can't teach her how not to be a prostitute. I'm having a hard time with that myself. Eighty-two hours off the job and I've managed to drink myself into a stupor, call my big sister I haven't spoken to in five years and ask her to come and save my sorry ass, forget about the drunken phone call entirely, and then stuff my face with fluff and jelly sandwiches while Alice glares at me from across the room. I don't think she was worried about my blood sugar.

Fluff and jelly.

Lilies and irises.

Purple and white.

_Sigh._

In a way, it's not much. Adorable didn't speak to my soul, just to my preferred color palette. It's something, though. He's trying.

I still can't figure out why I'm even thinking about him at this point, though, trying or not. I knew him for, like, a minute, and then he dismantled my life. I should hate him. I shouldn't be lying in bed in his Jane's Addiction T-shirt.

That's when I hear the engine. I can tell in a heartbeat that it's not Nessie and I know Adorable's not there. Or Crackle either, not that I care. But there's one member of The Trash Men that's still slinging trash.

And I don't know why, but Pop's presence is enough to propel me out of the bed and across the room. My door bangs against the wall as I rush down the stairs. I hear Rose snort and stir as I take the stairs two at a time. I'm not graceful about it; I sound like a herd of elephants.

"Bell?" Rose sleepily calls from the spare room.

I don't answer and sprint for the front door.

The truck's getting closer. One lone voice cries out to the breaking dawn.

_The world is closing in _

_Did you ever think _

_That we could be so close, like brothers _

_The future's in the air _

_I can feel it everywhere _

_Blowing with the wind of change _

"Bell?" Rose yells from the landing.

I know it won't be_ him_, but my heart's pounding twice as fast as my bare feet are pounding down the drive. I'm out of breath by the time I make it to the curb, and double over, gasping for air.

The singing stops as the truck rumbles closer.

"Hey, Perky!"

It's not him.

I stand tall and smile anyway. Pop no longer freezes in my presence and it makes me a little sad. Adorable's absence makes me sadder.

"You really like Jane's Addiction, huh?" Pop asks with a wink as he throws my neighbor's trash into the back of the truck. Something's off, though. The young dark skinned guy I saw last Monday is across the street, studiously ignoring Pop and I.

"Don't you usually get the other side of the street, Pop?" I ask.

"Maybe I was hoping I'd see you," he replies with an embarrassed grin.

"Maybe I was hoping I'd see you, too," I admit.

At that moment, a gust of wind blows up under Adorable's T-shirt, revealing the fact that I've finally caved and thrown the boxer briefs into the wash. Pop freezes and it's like old times. I pull the shirt down by the seams and hold on tight. As pleased as I am that I've still got the touch, there's no time for his freezing this morning. He's got a route and, maybe, I have questions. Maybe.

I take a step in Pop's direction and that breaks the spell. It actually makes him break into a sweat.

"Why'd you want to see me, Pop?"

"He's a mess, Perky."

My heart flutters. Fluttering's way different than pounding, by the way. It makes my chest tingle. It makes other things tingle, too. It makes me smile.

"He should be, Pop. He really fucked up."

"How bad could it be?" Pop asks with a shrug as I walk with him and the truck to the next house.

"How bad? How bad? Hasn't he told you anything?"

"He's distracted and sad, Perky. If he's not checking his phone, he's gazing out the window or cursing his dad under his breath. It's no fun, dude. And it's not really what we're going for with the trash men. We don't do deep soul-searching ballads and that kind of shit. You know?"

My heart stops fluttering and starts aching, just a little.

"Why'd you call me Yoko, Pop?"

That Yoko bit really seemed to throw Adorable when I mentioned it the other night. I figure it all must mean something.

"What?" Pop asks.

"That Yoko crap you pulled last Monday. Why'd you say it?"

"Oh, that…" Pop's face goes red and he ducks his head as he goes for the neighbor's can. "Just that things changed after Edward met you. Nothing's been the same since."

Well, that's for sure. My life's changed in ways I'd never have anticipated. Laurent's dead, my house is set to be taken out from under me, and I think I'm in love with a garbage man that sold his soul to the mob.

"I worry about him, Pop. What the hell is he doing now?" I ask.

"Sulking, probably. Or using his Skin So Soft."

I giggle. I can't help it. Maybe one day I'll lather myself in Skin So Soft for Adorable. He'd come on the spot. That is, if I ever decide to talk to him again.

I shake my head and try to concentrate on the present and on Pop.

"What's Adorable doing for work, I mean?"

But Pop doesn't answer. He's frozen again. I check just to make sure I'm not accidentally flashing my cooch, but all's covered. Come to think of it, he's staring over my shoulder instead of between my legs.

"Is this your trash man, Bell?"

I turn to see Rose in, you guessed it, a _sparkly_ silver negligee. I'm a little hurt that it looks like Pop gets frozen like that for any hooker, not just me, but I push the feelings aside, because there are more important things to talk about: like Adorable, and how he's sulking, and maybe, what he's wearing.

Not like I care.

"Pop?" I ask.

"I thought his name was Adorable," Rose says as she saunters over. Doesn't she know that it's way too early to saunter anywhere?

"This isn't Adorable, Rose. This is P-, er, I mean, Emmett. He's a bass player and, um, well -"

"A trash man, obviously," Rose purrs, looking Pop over from head to toe. "Damn Bell, you might be onto something here with the trash men angle."

"You've heard of us?" Emmett asks.

Rose looks confused. "Who hasn't?"

They smile at one another. Emmett pulls off a dirty glove and holds out his hand. Rose dangles her fingers in his face like a southern belle, or something, even though I know she's from Rochester.

"Rose, huh?" Pop asks. "You're as pretty as one."

"You're _definitely_ onto something with the trash men, Bell. Definitely."

Well, this was certainly interesting, but not exactly what I was hoping for when I caught up with Monday morning's pick up.

I step between the two of them, which is something of a feat given their suddenly close proximity and Pop's dirty jumpsuit. "Hey, Pop?"

Emmett startles. Rose scowls.

"Listen, sorry to interrupt, but here's the thing: I don't know if I'm ready to talk to Adorable. But I still worry. I do. Whatever he's into, it's really bad. Do you think you could, um, I don't know, keep an eye out, maybe?"

As if one lone trash man could thwart the mob. I sigh. I'm powerless and it sucks.

"Maybe I could come by some time and tell you, um, you_ two_ if I, uh, see anything," Pop offers selflessly.

"I think that's a perfect idea," Rose answers. Pop blushes again. I wonder if he'll freeze in the sack. No doubt Rose will tell me... one day very soon, by the looks of it.

"What'd'ya say, Perky?" Pop asks.

"_Perky_?" Rose laughs. I raise my eyebrows and glance down at the girls.

"Oh right, _perky_," Rose agrees. "I've always been totally jealous of those."

"I don't know why," Pop adds, his eyes caught in Rose's headlights.

This is my cue to go.

"Sure, Pop. Come over anytime. Just keep an eye out for my boy, okay?"

"It's a deal, Perky. You got it."

* * *

**A/N: What happened to Alice? Just wait... Until tonight. xxx, M**


	28. Fists of Fury

**EPOV**

I stumble out of bed thinking there's an earthquake because the apartment's shaking. Then I hear the pounding at the door. It's heavy and loud and relentless. I should probably be frightened.

I have a gun… somewhere. But I threw that thing into the farthest corner the minute Jasper left the apartment. I'm not a gun kind of guy. That's going to have to change, I guess. I have target practice tomorrow.

"I know you're in there!" a shrill little voice screams from the other side of the door.

_What the hell?_

"Come on out and face the music, trash man!"

That's not what I was expecting, at all.

I quickly unbolt and unlock the door and throw it open in time for two tiny hands to shove me halfway across the apartment.

"You dirty, double-crossing, good-for-nothing trash man!"

"Excuse me?"

The chick's small and angry and stronger than I would have figured.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she has herself to blame for this mess, but _you_! _You_!"

The little whirlwind of a woman pushes me farther backwards each time she screams "you".

"_You_! _You_ broke her heart! _You_ lost her house! _You_ thought you could change everything by getting Bell in with the mob!"

"Whoa, hey!" I'm up against the kitchen wall. And this chick's a little off base. I flip on the light switch and I gasp. I'm staring into Perky's eyes.

"Listen, uh, Alice?"

The little woman jumps. I think I've guessed right.

"Alice, usually 'hey', or 'hi', or 'nice to meet you' come before any of this other stuff you're yelling," I remind Bella's older sister, while I inch away from her strong little hands. They're clenched into fists just at Mr. Ed's height and it's making me nervous.

"It's _not_ nice to meet you, though," Alice says through pursed lips, bringing her hands to her hips.

"Listen, Alice, first of all, I didn't get, uh, _Bell_ into the mob. I got her out of the mob," I hiss under my breath.

"My sister was _not_ in the mob!"

"Shh!" I warn. I mean, that kind of language shouldn't get thrown around out loud and stuff. "Second of all, I didn't break her heart."

"You did."

"Did I?"

Alice throws up her hands into exasperation. "You don't even know?"

"I guess not," I admit.

Perky's older sister shakes her head sadly and sinks into a seat at the table. There's only one chair, so I lean against the wall, a little relieved that there's some more room between her and Mr. Ed.

"Um, did Per-, um,_ Bell_, tell you where to find me?" I ask.

"She'd never. She doesn't even know I'm here. And you, sir, you're supposed to be in the mob?"

"Shhh!"

"Yeah, like whispering's going to help you out, when I can find your cell number, put a trace on it and end up at your door, all in less than a day?"

I'm flabbergasted.

"Really? How'd you do that? I mean, who the hell are you?"

"You seemed to know my name."

"Well, yeah. You're Alice, right? Perky's big sister. You snuck her in to see the Pixies on their Trompe le Monde tour. But that doesn't explained how you knew how to track me down."

Alice smiles a little, despite herself. "Yeah, I did. She told you that? About The Pixies?"

"Among other things."

"I really like The Pixies."

"I'm not surprised," I half-laugh. Perky's sister's got this short haircut and this turned up nose and she probably weighs less than Jasper's dog. She looks a lot more like a pixie than Frank Black, Kim Deal or Joey Santiago ever did.

Alice's Perky-like eyes flash like she's suddenly remembered that she's angry. "Yeah, well, I'm not here for social reasons. I'm here to tell you that you better fix things with my sister. Two phone calls and I could have you and your friends and family in the fucking slammer, buddy. But Bell loves you, so I'm going to leave you alone as long as you make this right."

I choose to think she's just talking shit about prison. I can't handle any more complications at this moment in time. Instead, I concentrate on Perky. I've become an expert at that over the past couple days. I can't believe that she loves me, and I don't want to believe that I broke her heart. And I do want to believe it, too, all at the same time - because then, maybe there's hope.

"I offered to make it right, Alice," I explain. "Like, a bunch of times. But Perky won't let me handle the shit with the house. She won't even talk to me. What'm I supposed to do?"

"What are you supposed to do? You're in your bed sleeping, buddy! Get off your ass and get over there! You were her trash guy, right? You know where she lives. You want her? Fight for her."

"Who am I fighting?"

"She doesn't open up to people, trash man. But for some reason, she's chosen you. Bell meets you and then she calls me. She hasn't called me in almost five years. But her trash man ruins her life and breaks her heart and she reaches out. Of course it only lasted until she sobered up, but I'll take what I can get."

"Sobered up? Perky doesn't drink, Alice."

Alice shakes her head in bewilderment. "How long have you two known each other?"

"Like a month."

"_Like_ a month, or _for_ a month?"

Seriously, I can't count the number of times my mom's said shit like that. "Whatever, mom," I say sarcastically.

That shocks Alice. She doesn't look much older than Perky, but then I remember that she saw The New York Dolls, live. She must be… as old as my mom. Shit.

"Sorry, uh… Mrs., Um…"

"Alice," she adds icily. "Alice is fine."

"Well, listen, Alice. I tried working things out on my own and I screwed up. A lot. Perky won't talk to me. I'm not messing with her life again, unless she wants me to. She doesn't want my dad involved, and he's the only way I'd have the money for the house. I've got nothing. And I go over and over it in my head. It's all I do."

Alice looks around my apartment while I try to explain things. Her eyes settle on the window ledge next to the bed.

Shit. Skin So Soft.

"All you do?" she asks with raised eyebrows.

"What exactly do you want from me, Alice?"

"Fix my sister's broken heart, trash man. She's waiting for your next move."

"The next season of Mr. Ed?"

Alice gives me a funny look. I've guessed wrong. Once again, I'm lost, and kind of hungry. "Want some Rice Krispies, Alice? Snap, Crackle, Pop?"

Alice ignores my attempt at Krispie humor. "Listen, Bell must have given you a hint about what could make this right for her."

I think back over the last time Perky and I talked as I pour myself a bowl or cereal. That night in her car it was more like the last time I begged and she yelled. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe all I needed to know was in that last argument. I drop my bowl of Krispies in the sink and rush across the apartment to find my laptop. I'm already deep into my research by the time Alice sits next to me on the bed.

"Google is going to make this right?" she asks skeptically.

"Dude, Google makes everything right. You know anything about rock climbing, Alice?"

* * *

**A/N: Next update... late tonight. xxx, M**


	29. Decisions and Harnesses

**BPOV**

Pop showed up at the house after The Trash Men's band practice, smiling shyly, wearing dress pants and a button down oxford and a big, straight, gleaming white smile.

"Hey, Perky," he mumbled, glancing not so subtly over my shoulder.

"Rose's in the shower," I offered.

With mention of Rose and the shower, Pop froze for just a split second, but his recovery was admirable. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but I'm observant when it comes to guys. Little tricks of the trade, you know.

"Oh, well, um…" Pop stammered.

"You want to come in?" I asked, stepping to the side to allow Pop to pass.

That's when he actually looked at me, and that's when he froze again. I was flattered, considering that my black cami and Adorable's freshly laundered boxer briefs covered all the important bits. Suddenly, Pop didn't look so sure about coming inside.

It was Rose's footsteps on the stairs that finally moved the mountain, I mean, moved Pop. Rose shimmied into the living room wearing a sparkly tank top and hot pants, and apparently a man magnet, because Pop was drawn through the doorway and right to her side.

Rose needlessly smoothed out her tank and smiled. Pop dug his hands deep in his pockets, and sputtered a bashful hello.

Don't get me wrong, that was cool and all, but I didn't invite Pop over so he could get laid, which if I didn't do something, would probably happen in about thirty-seven seconds, depending on whether or not he froze again.

"So, Pop, did you bring us any news on the man?" I asked, jumping between the two of them.

"The man?" Pop asked, startled. "What man?"

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "Your lead singer. _Edward_? The reason I said you should stop by."

"Oh, right, Edward."

"Who's Edward?" Rose asked as she tried to nudge me out of the way.

"He's Adorable," I answered without a hint of irony as I pulled Pop away from her and steered him to the couch. "So, what's up with The Trash Men, Pop?" I asked, plopping down next to him.

Rose squeezed herself between Pop and me. The lamplight glanced off of her tank top and shimmered on Pop's face. He blinked shielded his eyes and ducked a little. Really, he needed a pair of shades if he was going to hang out with Rose on a regular basis.

"Well, Perky, there's definitely something going on. Jasper slipped Ed a gun when I wasn't looking."

"A gun? You're sure?"

"I wasn't at first. It was in his front pocket, and, you know, it could have been…"

"Mr. Ed?" I guessed with a knowing smirk.

"The DVD that came in the mail today?" Rose asked, confused.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed with a chuckle. "Mr. Ed. I forgot about that shit. Anyway, it wasn't Mr. Ed. Jasper flipped out and made Ed carry it in his waistband, and that's when I saw it."

"A gun," I sighed. "Anything else?"

"Just some stuff about wolves and Volturi Waste Management (they're our competition), and uh… how Ed's dad's going to finally let the guy off the hook and stop following him around. How Felix won't be at our next show."

"What?" I tried to jump to my feet in shock, but I was wedged between a sparkly hooker and the arm of the couch.

"Just some stuff about wolves and Vol-" Emmett began to repeat.

"No, no, no!" I interrupted. "What does that stuff mean about Adorable's dad? I mean, is he letting Adorable off the hook for his debt? Is he out of… the family? Or is he actually feeding him to the wolves, or the Volturi, or what?"

"He owes his dad money?" Pop asked. "I don't know, Perky. I don't know about any of that. I could ask, I guess."

Actually,_ I_ should probably be the one to ask Adorable anything. If I asked I wouldn't get Pop into any more trouble than he was already in. But if I spoke to Adorable, I'd be jumping in head first with my eyes wide open, and getting more involved with the mob went against my sense of self-preservation. Before Adorable, all I'd wanted was to be a happy hooker until I had my house and some savings. Then I could work towards something good and wholesome. Well, if not wholesome, at least something legal.

"You have Mr. Ed DVD's?" Pop asked Rose, after I dropped out of the conversation.

Rose scooted closer to Pop. I hadn't thought it was possible. "Bell does. They came in the mail today. Why?"

"Well, I've never seen a talking horse."

"Me and Perky were just getting set to watch. You want to join us?" Rose asked.

Pop looked to me for permission.

"Why the hell not," I acquiesced. At least it would give me some time to think things through. Maybe I'd bite the bullet and call the man. I'd call him Adorable, because he really was adorable, and because when it came right down to it, I didn't want him to die.

xXxXx

Which brings us to this moment, sitting on my bed with Pop and Rose and a big bowl of popcorn, watching the first season of Mr. Ed.

The kids are behaving, if you can believe it. They hold hands and their knees are touching. It reminds me of that first date I had with Adorable and my chest aches, and I know I should call. I mean, he sent me Mr. Ed in the mail. How awesome is that?

Over the last ten years, lots of men have told me that they loved me, but Adorable's the first guy in a long, long time that really seems to mean it. And he could be in danger. Actually, I _know_ he's in danger; it's just a matter of degree. Judging from the fact that his dad seems to be a mob boss, I'm guessing he's in deep.

I'm on the verge of excusing myself to place the call, when there's a huge thwack and clank on the roof just over our heads.

Rose jumps into Pop's arms, and in his suddenly frozen state, he holds her tight.

There's another clank, and then a thud from somewhere below my bedroom window. I pause the Mr. Ed episode and we all hold our breath. There's another thud, and if I strain, I can hear music… _I think_.

I get up to go to the window, and Rose throws herself across the bed to try to stop me. "Bell, no!"

"Jesus, Rose, get a grip!" I shake her off, hop off the bed and open the blinds.

Nothing.

There's another thud, but I can't see directly below the window, so I open it and I'm overwhelmed by music and lyrics I've only heard once before:

_And baby we'll go_

_As far as we can_

_I'll be your garbage man_

_And I'll take out your junk_

_And I'll crush it down…_

"Adorable?" I call.

There's another clank and thump below.

"Perky?"

Oh my god; it's him! I lift the screen. That's when I notice the taut rope next to the window. It shimmies and strains. I follow it downward until I see him: Adorable. He's suspended halfway between the ground and my bedroom window, making his way methodically upward, one hitch at a time.

I can't stop smiling. He's scaling a wall because I don't have a fire escape.

_In my garbage truck_

_I'll never throw you away_

_When you're old and grey_

_Just roll it away_

The music's coming from an old, white limo parked in my driveway.

"Your bedroom had to be on the second floor, huh?" he asks as he struggles slowly upward, a daisy and a periwinkle clenched in his teeth.

White and purple.

_Sigh._

"Where else would my bedroom be?" I ask shaking my head in heart-warmed disbelief.

Adorable stops his ascent and gives me an incredulous look. "Dude, I _know _bedrooms are on the second floor. I'm doing _Pretty Woman_, Perky, so bear with me."

I can't help smiling. I'd never admit it out loud, but I know the end of _Pretty Woman_ by heart. I hate that movie and everything it stands for, but there's a little girl buried deep inside that loves it to death, all at the same time. As much as I know that a hooker can't depend on anyone else to save her, every one of us secretly hopes, deep down, that some guy will care enough to try. And maybe I'm dense, but it takes Adorable rock climbing up the side of my house, re-enacting _Pretty Woman_, to see that he's the one.

My smile seems to spur Adorable on. He closes the space between us like he's been climbing walls his entire life. Finally in front of me, deliciously close, he rubs his thumb across my cheek, and then he wipes the sweat from his forehead.

"So what happens after he scales the house that's going to be repossessed by the bank?" Adorable asks as he tries to catch his breath.

"She scales _him_ right back," I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck.

And his kiss… _goddamn_. My knees go weak. I'd forgotten how much force Adorable puts into kissing, and I grab hold of him so that I'm not knocked back into the bedroom. I love it. I do. He's so earnest, and so strong, and full of so much raw, unrestrained power. I want to feel that raw power - in bed. Immediately.

I start to unhitch his harnesses, and Adorable struggles to pull himself through the window without getting tangled. We're forced to break the kiss while I help haul him over the ledge. That's when he gets a good look at me. That's when I get a good look at Mr. Ed. That's when the ropes and harnesses and carabiners crisscrossed over Adorable's body make _me _grab hold of the curtains for support.

His enormous hands run over my hips and around to my ass. He snaps the waistband of his boxer briefs. "My god, Perky. Are these mine?"

Adorable nuzzles my ear as he waits for an answer. It's a long time coming. I have to catch my breath. The harnesses make Adorable look like he's all muscle and cock… and clasps and ropes and…

"Dude, Edward! What the heck are you doing here?"

Emmett.

"Is this your trash man, Bell?"

And Rose.

Adorable looks up from his boxer briefs to Emmett in his formal wear, to Rose in her sparkly tank top and hot pants, to Mr. Ed on the big screen.

"Wilburrr!" Mr. Ed whinnies.

"What the fuck, Perky?" Adorable asks, looking hurt and confused and like he's contemplating jumping back over the ledge.

"It's not what it looks like." I grab onto Adorable's shirt like I might be able to hold him in place.

"Well it looks like Emmett's having a Mr. Ed sleepover with you and another half-dressed friend."

"No, I, uh… I saw Emmett this morning," I start to explain. "And I, uh -"

"She's worried about you, dude," Emmett jumps in. "Really worried. And I am too, man."

"You're worried?" Adorable asks, his dusky green eyes searching mine.

"So worried," I murmur. It comes out in a whisper. I don't know who I am or where I'll be living anymore, but I know I'm worried about Adorable. And I know that I want him in my bed and in a harness so bad that it hurts.

"I didn't know if you even cared," Adorable murmurs back, pushing my hair behind my ear. I shiver - head to toe.

"I do care, Adorable. I do. A lot."

"I'm so sorry," he pleads.

"I don't want you to die."

"I don't want to die either, Perky. Not as long as I have you."

"Hey, Emmett," Rose coos from somewhere across the room. "There's something I want to show you in the guest room. Come on."

I guess they leave; I don't really care. All I care about are the large hands that lift the cami over my head. All I care about are the lips that shower slow, soft kisses over my neck. All I care about is Adorable, who's too trussed up in hooks and lines do anything besides unzip a fly and pick me up in his hands and pin me to the nearest wall.

That's where I wrap my legs around him. That's where I call out his nickname. That's where I tell him I love him - no if's and's or but's. That's where he tells me he loves me too. And he uses my real name. And I don't mind.

* * *

**A/N: Next update... tomorrow morning. xxx, M**


	30. Rosenberg Redux

**EPOV **

"Morning, Adorable," she whispers and I kiss the tip of her nose.

"I love you, Adorable," she coos and I kiss her fluttering eyelids.

"Morning, Mr. Ed," she says in a low rumble of a voice as she ducks under the covers.

I hiss. I sigh. Amazingly, I pull her up so we're face to face. Her body molds to mine. She's soft and warm and she smells so sweet, even first thing in the morning.

"Morning, Bell," I hum as I brush my lips against hers.

"Say it," she giggles, her hands in my hair, tugging just a little. "Out loud. Say it."

"Belinda," I murmur.

"Are you afraid?" she asks with a kiss.

"No," I admit honestly. I was, up until she said she loved me.

Perky sighs and lays her head against my chest. "You're not going to ask the most basic question… Why'd I change my name?"

"No," I breathe, running my fingers slowly down her spine, one little notch and bump at a time. "No. Not now. Right now I just want this."

"My vertebrae?" she asks.

"You and me, Perky," I explain, rolling on top of her, finding my way between her thighs.

"We have to talk," she says wrapping her legs around my waist.

"Later," I insist with a thrust and a grunt. I hold my breath and concentrate before moving again. Hard. Deep. Right on the money.

"Jesus! Adorable!"

"I love you, Perky."

The headboard bangs against the wall.

"Oh my god."

The headboard bangs again. And again. A pile of rope and a harness falls to the floor.

Perky's nails scrape at my back, she lift her hips to meet me. Her head lolls, exposing the soft, creamy skin of her throat. My mouth, my lips, my teeth find a home there, at the nape of her neck, as I drive myself slow and hard and deep, into warmth and wetness, until I feel it in my throat, in my toes, until she's begging, and with a stream of fuck's and the name Belinda, we're both left panting and sleepy and very willing to wait before we answer the hard questions.

Before we find out exactly who it is that we love.

* * *

**A/N: Next update... sometime later today. These two have a lot of explaining to do. xxx, M**


	31. Confessional

**BPOV**

"So I went to my dad and asked him to get you out of the game," Adorable explains as we lie in bed, wrapped around one another. I sigh. Adorable's so sweet, so naïve. I run my hand through his shiny golden hair and gaze into his stormy eyes.

The day's passed slowly, softly, in a tangle of limbs, and lips, and confessions of a much less life and death nature. For instance:

Last night was the first night I ever made love.

Today was the first day Adorable's ever tried sixty-eight or sixty-nine.

He nearly wretches when I explain seventy.

I admit to playing Lacrosse in high school. Adorable's incredulous. I wonder out loud how he knew.

There's something about Lacrosse that suddenly makes things more serious, and that leads directly to this much more somber confessional. I know we had to get here. I'm just glad we're doing it naked, in a post-coital haze. It smoothes out the rough and dirty edges.

"It's okay, Adorable," I whisper. "We'll make it okay."

"I don't see how, Perky. I was such an idiot."

I choose not to agree. He was an idiot in love. Surely there's a difference. "So, your dad let The Wolves get Laurent?"

Adorable closes his eyes, shakes his head and looks away. "I didn't mean it, Perky."

"I know." I seal the sentiment with a kiss. He's practically shaking, and I hold him tight. I know it's bad, because it's the first time our bodies have been pressed together like this that Mr. Ed doesn't come to life.

"Tell me," I ask as I hold the back of his head in my hand. "It'll feel better to let it out."

"I agreed to work for my dad."

"Who's your dad, Adorable?"

"Carmine Cullenieri."

"Shit."

"You're telling me, Perky."

It _is_ bad. Really bad. We're screwed. I blink back tears as I stare in the beautiful eyes of Carmine Cullenieri's son. "And, of course he made you do something in return for getting me out."

Adorable shrugs. "Of course. He made me work for him for three days."

"Just three days?"

"It was enough to make me hate him. Enough so that it would look natural when I told him I didn't want anything to do with him ever again. Enough to put the rest of his master plan into motion."

I don't ask what those three days entailed. Adorable's sudden pallor and cloudy eyes say enough. Some things are so horrible that repeating and replaying don't help. I know this first hand. "Tell me more," I quietly encourage.

"If my dad finds out you know, Perky -" But Adorable can't finish. I understand. I'm nothing to that mobster. If Adorable's dad gets wind of this discussion, it would be the end of Isabella, Perky, Bell _and_ Belinda. And I was really starting to like Perky. Maybe even Belinda, too.

Last night, though, I dove in head first, with eyes open. There's no going back. I don't _want _to go back. I want to find a way to keep Adorable here with me - to wake up wrapped around each other; to while the day away feeding one another purple grapes and marshmallows in bed. I have to know more if we're going to figure a way out of this mess.

"I already know too much," I remind Adorable. "Lay it all on me, trash man. I'm tough. I can take it."

And I lay it on him - a lingering kiss. Mr. Ed stirs, I shimmy my hips and smile. I push aside ideas about all the things I could do with a naked trash man, endless amounts of rope and a carabiner or two.

"My dad's already started to put out the word that I'm out. No more drivers. No more bodyguards, well, except Jasper. But he's supposedly broken with dad too… out of loyalty to The Trash Men and to me. It's not too big of a jump because dad's always hated my rock star dreams."

"Just another reason he sucks," I sigh.

Adorable jumps and looks panicked. I'm guessing there aren't a lot of people willing to say that kind of thing about his dad to his face.

"You're a natural, Adorable. You belong on stage. Your dad's a fool is he doesn't see it."

"Yeah, well, dad doesn't feel so kindly about me squandering my birthright."

"I thought you were adopted."

"Same difference," he shrugs.

We're getting off course, and Mr. Ed's getting ready for a ride, and Adorable looks caught somewhere between fear and desire. I scoot away from him and take his dimpled chin firmly in hand so that he has to stare me straight in the eye.

"The plan, Adorable. Tell me."

"I get word to Aro that I want in with his organization because I hate my dad, and because he's abandoned me. We'll have to meet. I'll suggest The Trash Men's next show. Aro will either be there to kill me, or to bring me into the fold. Either way, it's my job to take him out."

"Kill him?" I ask, incredulous.

Adorable doesn't answer directly. "I have target practice in about three hours. I have a new gun."

"But, what if Aro doesn't show?"

"His men will, then. We kill them, instead."

"But then you're a dead man!"

"I've always had a mark on my head, Perky. It wouldn't be any different than it was yesterday or the day before."

"Except you'll be working for the mob!"

I'm losing it and that wasn't my plan. I was going to stay calm. I was going to make Adorable feel better about everything. But I can't lose him. I _can't_. And he's already half gone.

"Perky, shhh," Adorable hushes as he brushes his fingers through my hair. "We'll figure it out. We have to."

I nod my head and feel big, fat tears rolling sideways down my cheeks. He kisses them. Then he kisses my lips.

"I love you, Belinda. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."

"Me either… Edward."

Adorable sighs and draws me close.

"Tell me about yourself, Perky. Please?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything. Start wherever."

There's only one place to start, and I know it.

"Alice, she was my hero," I admit. "She was like a rock star to me. She was so much older and so cool and she managed to do everything right at the same time. You know, she hung out with rockers and smoked and drank and got straight A's and a scholarship to Brown."

"Alice is something," Adorable agrees with a smirk and a knowing nod of the head.

"What do you mean?"

"She practically knocked down my door last night and gave me an ultimatum."

"Oh my fucking god! That's what I mean. They both just hate me!"

"Whoa, whoa, there, Perky. Your sister's a little nuts, but it's clear that she loves you to death."

"By threatening you? That doesn't make any sense."

"She threatened me so I'd get off my ass, stop telling you how I feel through Amazon . com, and get over here and make things right. She's the reason I'm here right now. She's the reason I can do this."

Adorable palms my tits. I relax a little.

"And this," he murmurs.

He cups my cooch in his other big, rough hand.

My eyelids flutter closed. I can't help it.

His lips brush against mine.

"Go back to the beginning, Perky," he whispers. "You completely skipped the middle of your story."

I sigh. I can do this. Adorable's spilled the beans about how he sold his soul to his own father. It's the least I can do. And, surprisingly, I find that I want to talk.

"Well, I wasn't as good at being bad as Alice was. I got caught, a lot. And with a FBI dad, that shit doesn't fly." I pause, Adorable nods in encouragement. "I was already on thin ice when, well, when I got pregnant."

My voice catches in my throat. Adorable doesn't even flinch. His nose brushes against mine. His hand moves from my cooch to my belly, his knee finds a home between my thighs.

"He called me a whore and, I guess, I thought I'd show him. But, maybe I just lived up to his words."

"But, Perky, what about the baby?" he asks.

"There's no baby, Adorable. I was sixteen and homeless. I had an abortion."

I wait for him to remove his hands, jump out of the bed, to shake his head in disgust. Anything. But the gestures don't come. Adorable just rubs my belly, rubs my cheek, and lays his head on my chest. "I'm sorry, Perky."

"It was a long time ago, Adorable."

"It still doesn't make it fair."

"No, it doesn't."

"I love you."

"Still?" I ask.

"Of course," he smiles.

And maybe it doesn't make it fair, but it makes it more right than it's been in a while. Which is a lot, considering that now we're both in danger for our lives.

* * *

**A/N: I hesitated to write this chapter even though I've known what happened to Perky since the beginning. Abortion's such a controversial topic that most writers avoid it when writing a heroine. Me, well, when you're writing about singing trash men and sparkly hookers, sometimes you choose to bite the bullet. I understand some may leave. I hope you guys are cool with it, though. I mean, I'm writing about a hooker. There was already some moral ambiguity. **

**More funny chapters to come. Promise. Probably tomorrow. xxx, M**


	32. Pixie & Sparkle

**EPOV**

I worked hard at target practice. I pretended I was gunning down bad guys to save Perky. Sometimes I pretended the targets were Aro. Usually, though, they were my dad; and it turns out that maybe I'm a gun guy after all.

Afterwards, I went right back to Perky's place. She jumped into my arms when I showed up at her front door, and we kissed and groped and ground against one another as I carried her into the kitchen. I'd kind of wanted to try out the countertop (it seemed like the perfect height), but instead, I found her table set and a big bowl of cole slaw and lots of toast with jam. She'd made use of the gift basket I sent her and made us dinner.

Our meal matched her house.

"Desert?" I asked after cleaning my plate.

Perky giggled and tossed me a bag of marshmallows. Then she pulled her skirt up to her waist and uncrossed her legs. "Your choice, trash man," she purred.

She wiggled in her seat, teased her perky nipples and she spread her thighs a little wider. There was no contest. Within seconds I was on my knees with her legs over my shoulders, tipping her chair back against the wall, doing my best.

"More," Perky mumbled, and I added another finger.

"More, Adorable" she pleaded and I sucked harder and nipped her lips and grazed her nub.

Perky found my hand, she unfurled my fingers, she bucked her hips, shifted in her chair, and I was astounded. "Please?" she begged.

"Really?" I asked, my lips brushing against her pussy, my eyes glancing upwards, looking for a sign.

Perky nodded and bit her lip and I went for it. I did what she asked.

Five fingers in, knuckles deep, my mouth sucking at her clit and Perky came harder than I'd ever seen her before: panting, her pretty chest heaving, her thighs clenching, whimpering, nearly chanting my name. My real name. _Wow._

"Wow," Perky sighed.

"Wow," I agreed, checking out my glistening hand.

"Let's clean you up, Adorable," she rasped, eyeing my hand with admiration and wonder.

Perky slid to the floor in front of me and slowly, methodically, sucked one finger at a time as she climbed onto my lap, as she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly.

"Your choice, Adorable," she murmured as her soft wet lips grazed Mr. Ed.

My mind was swimming: sixty-eight or sixty-nine, her on top and get the rope, on the table, on the countertop, a harness, her head hanging over the edge of something or another as I fucked her mouth, cowgirl or reverse cowgirl, and the way my hand had nearly disappeared inside her…

Perky rolled her hips and sucked my thumb and pressed her little body against mine, and I caught her eyes and calmed the fuck down. Her eyes were so pretty, so bright, so open, so in love. In love. I was pretty sure.

"I love you, Perky."

She didn't hesitate. She didn't even blink.

"I love you too."

"I choose you, Perky. Just you."

Perky was beautiful when she smiled.

She wrapped her arms around me, slipped herself over me, held me tight and pressed her forehead against mine. I know she said yesterday was her first time and all, but Perky was really good at making love.

xXxXx

"I think your dad's the key to all of this, Perky," I finally say out loud. I hold my breath.

She shakes her head dismissively and rolls over in bed.

"It's the only thing I can think of," I add as I wrap my fingers around the spot where her waist meets her hip. It's like a handle. It feels like home. I pull her body against mine.

"We could run away," Perky offers, as she snuggles in. "Who cares about the house, really? Let's just go. We could start over somewhere. I've done it a million times before."

"A million?" I ask with a chuckle. "You're not that old."

A pillow smacks me in the face. Perky's got surprisingly good aim. I have a feeling she'd be good with a gun, too, just like me. Then the idea of her with a gun and a rope, maybe topless, nearly sidetracks me completely. I try to concentrate. After all, we're talking life and death, and life just got good. Really good.

"No one gets away from dad, Perky."

"Seriously? No one?" she asks. "Someone must have gotten away, at some time or the other."

"Do you want to chance it?" I ask.

Perky rolls back over and her eyes are panicked, and when she folds herself into my arms I can feel her heart racing. "I don't know," she admits. "I guess I don't want to chance losing you at all."

"We need your dad, Perky."

"He hates me," she mumbles. "He's just as likely to throw you and me into prison as your dad."

"What about Alice?" I ask.

"What about her?"

"She kind of gave me the impression that she knows her way around the legal system."

Perky shakes her head.

"I guess. She's a P.I. But Alice and I don't talk either, Adorable."

I'd kind of hoped Alice was in the FBI like their dad. But it's something. Maybe it's all we have.

"You called her, though," I say, trying to sound supportive.

"Yeah, I did. And she came over and glared at me the whole time she was in my house. She doesn't approve and neither does my dad."

"She came, Perky. That says a lot. And she wants to talk to you. Actually, that was part of my assignment, I think. She wanted me to un-break your heart, so maybe you'd open up to her again."

"She didn't say that. Did she?"

The hope in Perky's voice and in her eyes is unmistakable.

"Pretty much, Perky."

She sighs. For the first time in hours she seems a little hopeful.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't even remember calling her. What would I say?"

"Hi, Pixie?" I offer.

Perky looks perplexed. "_Pixie_?"

"If we all have nicknames, then Alice is going to need one too."

Perky giggles. It's so good to see some of the tension leave.

"Wait," Perky says, still laughing a little. "What about Rose?"

I don't miss a beat. "Sparkle."

She hits me again with the pillow, but Perky's still laughing as she looks for her cell and finds Pixie's number.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for the heartfelt responses to Chapter 31. I was seriously honored and awed. You women are awesome & strong, and I'm lucky to have you on board.

Questions:

1) **What's seventy?** According to Urban Dictionary: When a father and son duo blow each other in the 69 position. I know it's gross. You asked.

2) **Isn't Perky's dad in the FBI?** Yes! FBI. Totally FBI. My mistake. Law enforcement acronyms were never my strong suit. I've gone back and changed it. Thanks for the heads up.

3) **When will Rubbish update next?** This weekend's going to be nuts for me. So I'm taking a Rubbish real-time break, and I'll resume updating on Monday. Sorry about that, but RL has a nasty habit of getting in the way of the best laid plans sometimes.

Thank You for all of the reviews! xxx, M


	33. 70, 71 & 72

**BPOV**

Alice will be here soon. Really soon. I can't believe it. I can't believe that I called her, stone cold sober, and told her that I needed her help. I can't believe that she said she'd be here this morning, (the very next day). Alice doesn't live down the street - and she has a daughter and a life and a job. But she's coming anyway.

This sudden connection with Alice makes me feel like I'm living in The Land of Make Believe, with my very own Prince Tuesday, a.k.a, Adorable, a.k.a. Edward Cullenieri.

I glance across the shower stall and sigh. My Prince Tuesday's eyes are closed, his face is held under the spray, and his hands are in his hair. He's gorgeous. I've seen my share of men, but this one, he has a heart to match his body, and they both make me feel, well… they make me feel _good_. Don't take that the wrong way. It's been a long time since I've felt truly good.

And if Alice can actually help us out, maybe Adorable and I will get to shower like this _every_ morning. Maybe I can feel good for a long time to come.

Adorable turns around to face the spray and I can't help but ogle his backside. Yeah, he makes me feel good in so many ways… so many ways that we lost track of time after the alarm woke us this morning. We had no choice but shower together. A sacrifice I'm willing to make for cleanliness.

Actually, I might have skipped the shower all together in favor of concentrating on some of the other ways we could make one another feel good in bed. But Adorable wanted to make a good impression on my sister, and apparently, not smelling like sex is part of it. He's really thoughtful.

Actually, Adorable thinks a lot. Now that we fall asleep together and wake up together, he shares so many thoughts with me in that time in-between time. He thinks non-stop about how to get the two of us out of this mess. He thinks we have two options: either we go on the lamb, or he bites the bullet and guns for Aro at the show later this week.

I don't like those options. They both leave us homeless and watching our backs for one mob family or another. I'm waiting to see what's behind door number three, thank you very much. I just hope Alice has some bright ideas, and I hope I'm not getting her into too much trouble by involving her in this. I hope she's not angry. I hope she'll hear me out.

"A penny for your thoughts," Adorable murmurs, bringing me back to the here and now, and what a here and now it is. He's close and wet and clean, his head bent to mine, his lashes heavy with little beads of water that frame his bright eyes.

"Just thinking," I sigh.

"I've been thinking, too," he murmurs, taking my hips in his big hands. I smile. I _knew_ he was always thinking. _See_? I know him so well, already.

"About?" I ask.

"About seventy."

I pull my body away from his and try to cover myself.

"Ew! Not when you're in the shower with me, Adorable!"

"Dude, Perky, cut the crap," he chuckles. "I Googled it."

"Of course you did," I laugh out loud. Along with always thinking, he's also forever using Google.

Adorable shakes his head, spraying water all over me. It's cold since I'm not directly under the spray. I can't help but shiver, and Adorable can't help but watch my boobs tremble. "You lied about seventy," he says to my breasts in grave, mock-seriousness.

"I'm sorry, you can fool yourself if you want, but I didn't lie. Seventy is seventy. Everyone knows it." I tip his chin upwards so that he's looking in my eyes.

"_No one_ knows about _your _version of seventy, Perky, and I think that's the way it should be," he laughs.

"Please, don't ever call it _my_ seventy," I beg.

"Fair enough," Adorable murmurs with a smile. He takes a step in my direction. I see nothing but wet green eyes, a broad chest and Mr. Ed. _Mr. Ed?_ I _thought_ I knew Adorable well. I hope he doesn't have daddy issues. "I like my version of seventy better, though," he rumbles, taking another step towards me.

I'm trapped at the end of the shower stall. I don't mind. Not at all.

"What's your version?" My voice quavers, my nipples stand tall like they're on pins and needles waiting to hear what Adorable has to say. He places one hand on either side of my head and leans forward so that Mr. Ed is just barely brushing against my belly, and whispers in my ear.

They're the dirtiest words I've ever heard coming from Adorable's lips. My clit throbs, my nipples are ready to explode. If this is what Adorable comes up with when he Googles, well, I make immediate plans to always have my laptop open to my new favorite search engine.

I don't even care that he's wrong. Well, I care enough to let him know. I rest my hands on Adorable's wet, hairless chest. "Seventy-one," I correct. "What you just described is seventy-one." My voice comes out funny. Shaky. Ridiculously excited by the idea that he might want me to put my finger…

My thoughts are stopped mid-stream because Adorable's lips graze my ear and he brings Mr. Ed in closer, sandwiching him between our bodies. "How can it be seventy _and_ seventy-one at the same time?" he asks in a low rumble.

"It's not seventy _and_ seventy-one," I hiss, pressing back against him with my hips. "What you just explained is _definitely _seventy-one." I slide my hands down and around until they're resting on Adorable's ass cheeks. "How do you feel about seventy-one, Adorable?" My fingers move closer to their intended target.

I hold my breath. I'm on tenterhooks waiting for his answer.

"You or me?" he asks. His voice is uncertain, I think.

"Either one? Or… both," I offer judiciously.

Adorable pulls my body closer. His hands mirror mine. A finger runs down my crease. I arch my back, trapping his hand between my body and the travertine tile. "If we, uh, both tried seventy-one at the same time," he asks, "would that make it seventy-two?"

Oh god. I let my body fall against Adorable's. Seventy-two. It's been forever since I've even thought about seventy-two. And in the shower, with Adorable, seventy-two would be… _Oh my_. I hope to god he's open to seventy-two.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head.

"What's gotten into you?" he asks as his finger gets a little bolder.

"Seventy two," I answer as I feel him pressing, slowly, wiggling, asking for entrance.

"I'm all ears," Adorable rasps.

Thank god he's _not_ all ears.

"On your knees, Adorable."

Adorable swallows, his Adam's apple bobs, he bites his lip, and he does what he's told. I struggle to keep my composure.

Wriggling, I remove his finger and in one swift motion, I swivel around, bend over, and arch my back, placing my hands on the wet tile in front of me. I ease my hips back and forth just so. I can almost feel his stubble on my ass cheeks.

Adorable's hands slide up my thighs and I slide my legs apart. Water trickles from my hanging tits.

Large hands lift and part, and the spray from the shower hits... right… there.

"Seventy-two?" he asks.

"Seventy-two," I whisper back.

I feel the first tentative lap of a warm tongue. "Seventy-two?" he asks my ass and my cooch.

"Please," I whimper, rocking my hips.

And then I feel his hand reaching under. He finds my clit like he's been doing it all his life, and then another lick and an inspired swirl, and a breath of warm air, and a… doorbell.

"Alice," Adorable mutters to my back entrance.

"Alice!" I exclaim, pounding the tile with my fist. We forgot about Alice. How the heck were we supposed to escape from the clutches of two mob families when we couldn't even manage to share a shower?

Adorable and I pull each other up and out, and we're all wet hands and bare feet slapping on tiles as we struggle with towels. I've just wrapped my hair in a towel and piled it on top of my head and the doorbell rings again. I dash for the stairs.

"Perky!" Adorable cries from the bedroom.

I rush ahead, ignoring him. I've already fucked this up. I forgot about her, and now she's waiting at the door and –

"Perky!" Adorable commands and my feet stop despite my mind's intentions to keep going. Bare feet pad down the hallway and I feel his hands and soft silk on my shoulders. "Clothing, Perky," he murmurs. "It goes a long way to making a good impression."

What did I tell you? Adorable's always thinking. Even in the midst of a seventy-two.

* * *

**A/N: Testing the waters to see how much meaningless smut will make Jo flounce... **

**Next update, with actual content, will come later today.**

**Definitions for everything from 68 - 72 can be found on Google. Just ask Adorable.**

**Thanks for reading. Thanks for giving me the weekend! Thanks to Spell Check for always trying to turn cooch to couch. It makes me laugh every time.**

**xxx, M**


	34. Meddling Kids

**EPOV**

Pixie stalls in the entryway looking Perky up and down disapprovingly, and I'm not going to stand for it. The navy robe I picked out looks awesome on Perky, and who asked Pixie to show up at the buttcrack of dawn, anyway? Or nine-thirty. I mean, she's got to understand that nine-thirty for an unemployed hooker and an out-of-work trash guy is pretty damn early.

"What up's, Pixie?" I ask, wrapping my arm protectively around Perky's waist.

Perky's sister relaxes a little. "Pixie?" she asks, shaking her head, but she can't hide that she likes her new nickname. Her eyes flicker and it's a little unsettling how much they look like her sister's.

"You want to sit down, Alice?" Perky asks. I've never seen her look so insecure. It makes me want to protect her from the world even more than I usually do.

"You want to get dressed?" Pixie asks acidly as she slides past the two of us.

"No, I'm good, Alice," Perky snorts as she takes a seat across from her sister. I think she purposely decides against crossing her legs. _That_'s the Perky I know, but it's not going to win her any favors.

"We need your help, Pixie," I begin in a quiet voice, and I watch Perky's big sister soften again. Maybe I can just chant the word Pixie quietly in the corner. No, that would be weird.

"Well, you did your part, Edward," Pixie allows, looking between me and Perky. "So, I did mine. I went ahead and solved your problems, Bell. No more worries."

Perky practically leaps across the room. "What do you mean, Alice?"

"Can he be trusted?" Pixie asks, glancing in my direction.

"Anything you want to say to me, you can say to Adorable as well."

"Adorable, huh?" Pixie chuckles, eyeing me a little more critically. "I guess."

"Alice, what did you do?" Perky asks.

"I _may_ have used my mad skills to hack into the banks's mainframe and transfer the mortgage for the house into your name."

"Oh my god, really? I can't believe it!" Perky throws her arms around her sister. Pixie hesitantly pat's Perky's shoulder.

"When have you known me to play by the rules, Bell? You still have to pay the last two months, though. It only seems fair."

Perky drops her arms and scoots backwards on the couch. "How am I supposed to do that, Alice?"

"I don't know, Bell. However you were doing it before, I guess."

Perky clutches her robe to her body. "But I don't want to do _whatever_ I was doing before," she sighs.

"You don't?" I can't help interrupting.

Perky shakes her head shyly as she glances up at me, and I jump over the back of the couch and slide in next to her.

"Really, Perky?" I ask, clutching her hands. Her robe hangs open, but neither of us can be bothered.

"Just you, Adorable." She scoots closer. I pull her onto my lap. I hold her tightly and smile into her blushing face.

"I'll get a job," I offer. "I'll help. I'll help _us_."

"I guess I'll get one too," she coos, leaning her head against my chest.

"Well, my work here is done," Pixie announces, rising to her feet. "Don't be a stranger, Bell. Okay?"

I'm swept away by the knowledge that both Perky's heart _and_ her body are mine, and I'm about to suggest some serious seventy-one, when Perky snaps out of it.

"No!" she shouts, wriggling out of my grasp. "Pixie, I mean, Alice, I'm really grateful for everything you did with the house. But that's not actually why we asked you over toady."

_Damn._ The mob. I'd forgotten all about the mob, which is embarrassing since I'm supposed to be_ in_ the mob.

"Excuse me?" Pixie asks.

"Adorable and I, _we_ have other, bigger problems, Alice."

"Bigger than losing your house to your dead pimp?" Pixie asks with raised eyebrows.

"A lot bigger, Alice."

Perky's sister falls into the nearest chair. "Have you got any coffee, Bell?"

"We have grape juice," Perky answers.

That would be the last of my purple and white gift basket. Next time I'll have to remember eggs so we can offer our guests a decent breakfast. Perky and I have been seriously jacked up on jelly and marshmallows the past few days. And, come to think of it, I have no idea what happened to the eggplant.

"Just lay it on me, Bell," Pixie sighs. "What did you do, now?"

"That's enough, Pixie," I break in. "If your help comes with that attitude, then we don't need it."

"Yes, we do, Adorable," Perky hisses.

"Perky, you're successful and independent and confident, and no one gets look down their nose at you while I'm around. I got you into this mess. I can just go shoot Aro in the chest and be done with all of this."

"Aro?" Pixie asks. "Aro Volturi?" Her whole body radiates sudden concern. That's more like it.

We get Pixie set up in the kitchen with a tall glass of grape juice and the last of the marshmallows. She chews methodically while Perky and I take turns filling her in.

"You need dad, sis," Pixie announces quietly after we've finished.

"He'd never help me, Alice. He hates me. I can't."

"This is all… too much, Bell."

"There's got to be something, Alice," Perky begs.

Pixie turns to me. "I'm sure you have enough to take your father down, Edward. You could go to the F.B.I., tell them what you know, and they could take your family in. The Feds could hide you away somewhere where Aro might never look. You could live out your days in Glendale, Arizona, or something. Is that what you want?"

It's not what I want at all. I hate my father, but turning him in wasn't what I'd had in mind. Perky sees the answer in my face before I have to say anything. She clasps my hand. "Is that our only option, Alice?"

"Well, you guys have two problems, Edward's family, and Aro," Pixie says, thinking out loud. "If we could break into Aro's organization before the show and get something on him, maybe we could get da-, I mean, the Feds to take him in before it comes down to a shoot out."

"But how would we get something?" Perky asks.

"Isn't that why you called a P.I., sis?" Pixie asks with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"And what about my family?" I ask.

"Well, we know about your dad, Edward, but what about your mom? Is she a big part of the waste management side of things?"

"She's just an Avon lady," I admit.

Perky and Pixie spit grape juice across the kitchen. Perky's robe falls open again as she doubles over laughing.

"I think I love this guy, Bell" Pixie giggles.

"I definitely love this guy," Perky adds, pulling herself together.

"Well, maybe your mom could do something about your dad. She could get out the Skin So Soft -"

Pixie and Perky both break into another round of laughter. I sip at my grape juice and wait for them to calm the hell down. I'm _so_ switching to Jergins.

"What abut your mom, Adorable," Pixie asks after she's recovered.

"My mom and I don't talk about this stuff."

"I think it's time you started. I'll work on getting us into Aro's organization. But we're going to need help. They know you, Edward, and they probably know Bell by now. We need some fresh faces."

Just then we hear the front door click open and slam against the wall in the entryway. All three of us jump to our feet.

"Bell!" a slightly familiar female voice calls from the front room. "Bell! Get out here quick."

The three of us rush into the living room to find Emmett holding Jasper by his collar, holding a gun to his back. Sparkle is cowering in a corner with her hands over her mouth.

"Emmett, Jasper, what the hell?" I demand, stepping between all of their insanity and Perky.

"I found our band mate crouching in the bushes with a loaded gun in his hands, Edward," Emmett informs us. "Now it's time someone told me what the hell is going on around here."

* * *

**A/N: Now the gang's all here. Things happen quickly from here on out. Real time is out the window, isn't it? Expect a couple updates each day from here on out. If I do this right, it should be over by the end of this week, or early next week. xxx, M**


	35. Guns & Feathers

**BPOV**

"Oh my god, Pop! Put that gun down!" I shout.

"I know, right?" Rose agrees from the other side of the room.

Pop throws Crackle onto the living room floor and aims the gun at his body. Alice joins Pop, pulling her own handgun out of the waistband of her pants and aiming it at Crackle's head.

"I think Crackle here has some explaining to do," Pop growls.

"Me?" Crackle asks, looking like he might piss his pants. "What about Eddie boy over there? He's hanging out with a P.I. with ties to the Feds."

"The guys from Fed Ex?" Pop asks. Alice starts giggling all over again, but keeps her gun trained on Crackle.

"What in the fuck are you doing with this bitch, Edward?" Crackle asks, completely ignoring Pop's question about express mail and glaring at my sister.

"Don't you talk about my sister that way, you, you, you poor excuse for a Trash Man!" I kick Crackle in the shin, just for good measure. "And what the hell is my former garbage man doing outside of my house with a gun?"

Adorable wraps a reassuring arm around my waist. "I think it's time everyone took a deep breath and calmed the heck down," he offers. I sigh, glad that I'm in the arms of the only voice of reason in the place.

Rose begins taking deep, cleansing breaths in the corner, and the sunlight reflecting off of her beaded and bangled tube top momentarily blinds me. I blink hard and shade my eyes, only see that Pop and Alice must have been momentarily blinded too. Because, now, Crackle's sitting on Alice's back, pointing her handgun at Pop.

I struggle out of Adorable's arms and march over to Crackle. "This is enough!" I stomp. "This is _my_ home, now, and no one comes around with loaded guns pointed at my guests! I thought you guys were friends!"

"This _friend_ just had a gun pointed at me," Crackle says, nodding at Pop.

"Because you were hiding in Perky's bushes," Pop sighs in exasperation.

"Because Eddie's hobnobbing with the Feds," Crackle replies.

"What's hobnobbing and who's Eddie?" Sparkle asks, bewildered.

"I am not with the Feds!" Alice yells and bucks her hips, sending Crackle toppling sideways. The gun Crackle's holding discharges, and suddenly purple feathers are fluttering everywhere.

I hardly notice the struggle that follows; I only see Sparkle lying on the ground, unconscious, and I rush to her side. It takes me a few seconds to see that she's in one piece, no blood or bullet wounds, and it takes a few seconds more for her eyelids to flutter open. She must have fainted.

Sparkle blinks and surveys the scene around her. "Why am I covered in feathers?" she asks, plucking at the purple fluff covering her tube top.

"Jasper's bullet hit a pillow. Or two," I explain. "And they were my favorite pillows!"

I jump to my feet and march back into the room, only to see Adorable and my sister holding Crackle down on the couch. Pop's still got the gun trained on Crackle.

"You're going to pay me for those pillows, Crackle!" I announce. But Crackle won't even look at my face.

"Ahem, uh, Perky," Adorable says, clearing his throat and nodding at my tits. I'd seriously like someone to tell me one day how anyone keeps silk robes tied closed. I quickly cover myself, Adorable smiles, and Crackle is suddenly able to focus on my face.

"What the hell are you doing here with a gun, Crackle?" I ask.

"I was going to take down this P.I. that's been feeding information to the Feds," Crackle growls, and if looks could kill, my sister would drop dead on the spot.

"How do you know any of that, Jazz?" Adorable asks.

"I thought it was funny when she practically knocked down your door the other night. I figured she was pissed about you and Perky, or something. You know, another broken-hearted Trash Fan. But I saw the outline of her gun as she was leaving, and most Trash Fans aren't packing heat. I followed her, I checked in on a few things. She's in with the F.B.I., Edward. I couldn't let some disgruntled Trash Fan ruin all of our plans."

"You were going to kill my sister?" I ask in disbelief.

"I didn't know she was your sister."

"Would you junk punch him for me, Adorable?" I ask. But Alice beats Adorable to the punch, literally, and Crackle doubles over in pain.

"No one fucks with my family," I remind Crackle before I shield my eyes and turn towards Sparkle. She's admiring Pop and his gun. Hopefully, she'll have more time for that later. "Now, Spar, I mean, Rose, could you run up to my room and get some rope and a harness? We need to immobilize Crackle here, while we figure out how to save Adorable's pretty ass so that me and him can live happily ever after."

Sparkle runs for the stairs and we all shade our eyes as she goes, except Crackle, who's being restrained.

"My eyes!" he shouts in pain. "I'm blind!"

* * *

**A/N: Next update, this evening. xxx, M**


	36. She Gets Me In Knots

**EPOV**

I can't take my eyes off Perky as I watch her work the ropes. She ties and loops and knots until Jasper's totally incapacitated, and it's really pretty hot. It helps that I keep catching glimpses of her tits and her twat through the slit in her silk robe. I have to remind myself that I'm in a room with Pop and Crackle to keep Mr. Ed under control.

In fact, Crackle seems to have a little too much fun as Perky works him over. I smack him a little for good measure. Perky's mine. She told me so just this morning. I'm going to have to find her some robes that snap closed or something.

When Crackle's securely tied down, cuffed to the leg of the couch with black padded handcuffs, and gagged with a big leather ball thingy, I'm breathless… and I feel it's safe to let go of Crackle.

Pop's stopped dead in his tracks, entranced by the whole thing, and I understand completely. I wrap my arms around Perky, feeling pretty damn lucky. Some day soon, I hope we're out of this mess and she can tie up someone besides my drummer. All right, me. I hope she ties me up. I've got to get out of this shit with Aro and my dad. It can't be soon enough.

"Now what, Pixie?" I ask Perky's sister. "Let's make this happen. Quick. The Trash Men's show's just two days away."

"Well, let's get things straightened out with your dad, if we can," Pixie replies. "Go talk to your mom. Make her see the light. Let's get her to get you out. If Pop and Sparkle here are willing to help, they could be the fresh faces that we need to infiltrate Aro's organization."

I'm doubtful about the Pop and Sparkle part of the plan, but who am I to say, really? Sparkle could blind Aro with her sequins and Pop could gun them all down, maybe. On second thought, that's a ridiculous idea, and I'm really glad that Pixie's on board to help us out.

"Are you guys up for that?" Perky asks Pop and Sparkle.

"Of course, Bell," Sparkle gushes. "I mean, without you, I wouldn't have met Pop here. I'd still be working for Laurent. You're in, right Pop?" she asks Emmett.

He's still gazing off in the direction of Perky's tits, even though they're covered. It makes me feel territorial all over again, and I have to remind myself that Pop's the good guy. And they _are_ spectacular tits. They're the kind of tits that could launch a thousand ships, or at least inspire a killer nickname.

"You're in, right Pop?" Sparkle asks again, elbowing him in the side.

"Oh, dude, of course. I'm not sure what's going on, but I haven't had a rush like this since my Navy Seal days."

"What?" everyone shouts in unison.

"What?" Pop asks us all. "No one asked. I was discharged a year ago. PTSD. I freeze up and shit now whenever I get overwhelmed. No one noticed that? Really?"

"Well, Mr. Military," Pixie cuts in. "I hope you don't get too overwhelmed over the next twenty-four hours, because we'll be putting your military skills to the test."

"Mr. Military, huh?" Sparkle asks. "I like that."

"No, no, no!" Perky cuts in, and I can't help but notice how her tits bounce each time she says 'no'. Seriously, I need to get her dressed soon, or we're going to need to clear the room. "No more nicknames," she continues. "Mr. Military would be too confusing. From here on out: one nickname per person. We have three guys: Adorable, Pop and Crackle, and three girls: Perky, Pixie and Sparkle. That's it. End of story."

Everyone nods in agreement. It seems reasonable.

"Fine, then," Pixie agrees. "Adorable and Perky: get dressed and get going. You two need to charm the Avon lady."

"I've wanted to introduce you to mom," I admit, pulling Perky into my arms.

"Yeah?" she asks, and I can see the pink travel from her cheeks over her chest. I pull her in closer so no one else gets a peak.

"Yeah," I reply. "I bet mom's gonna love you. Just like I do."

"Not_ just_ like you do," she chuckles.

She's got a point. I don't even want to know the girl version of seventy. With a nod of agreement and a squeeze of the ass, I pull her upstairs for a quick sixty-eight before we go.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter, Perky meets Mrs. Cullenieri, a.k.a., the Avon lady. **

**Will she mind that Perky's an ex-hooker? Will she get upset that Adorable's switching to Jergins? **

**Tune in next time... **

**Seriously, (can I even say 'seriously' after writing this Rubbish?) thanks for sticking with this silly fic! I love the comments & wish I had time to respond to them all. **

**Next update, definitely tomorrow. But who knows... I might surprise you. xxx, M**


	37. The Avon Lady

**BPOV**

I stand naked in my walk-in closet without the faintest idea what to wear to meet the Avon lady. I've never met anyone's mom before. Not since high school, anyway. Not since Ben's mom went to finish a load of wash and found me and her son using the dryer as a kind of vibrating mattress.

I plan on keeping the dryer out of the picture this time around. And this time I'm determined to be clothed too. Not church-clothed, mind you. Adorable says that I should just be myself. In some ways, it feels like I'm just finding out who that is. After a little thought I decide that Perky really likes a certain pair of skinny jeans, a tank top and a leather jacket. She doesn't reach for a bra, but Adorable puts his foot down about that.

"Yourself, plus a bra," he asks with a kiss, and of course, I agree.

I don't have much experience with relationships, but I think Adorable and I are on solid footing. I listen to his advice about supportive undergarments, and he listens to my advice about all things numerical.

For instance, just before when he asked for a quick sixty-eight, I had to intervene. A _quick_ sixty-eight makes no sense, but a quick, old-fashioned missionary fuck: his weight on top of me, one hand knotted in my hair, the other grasping my hip, pinning me down, staring into my eyes while he pushes me over the edge - it's under-rated, ladies and gentlemen. It's fast, it's neat, and I think that when you can wrap yourselves around one another with your hearts touching, it's really special. I'll never make fun of it again.

Okay, maybe I'll make fun a little. Hearts touching? Christ, I've become as fluffy as cotton candy.

I pass Alice a sueded flogger on the way out the door, you know, just to help keep Crackle in line, and also because it matches his outfit so well. My sister seems pleased with the arrangement and I notice her glancing at Crackle with a subtle gleam in her eye. There might be a little bit of Perky inside her after all.

Now, on the road to Adorable's parents place in the old white limo he still hasn't returned, we listen to the Trash Men's demo. Adorable's quiet, contemplative - such a thinker, my man. But it's a sad kind of thinking, and that doesn't sit well with me.

"What is it, baby?" I ask, squeezing his knee.

"Adorable," he answers with a weak smile.

"What?"

"One nickname per person, Perky. I'm Adorable, not baby."

I sigh. When all of this is over, I'm taking the cap off the name game. I don't want to feel restricted when I call out to him in the throws of a seventy-two, or a good old-fashioned.

"What is it, Adorable?" I try again.

"I thought The Trash Men could go places, Perky," he admits. "But now Crackle's gagged and cuffed to your couch and Pop's infiltrating a mob family. I don't think it's going to happen for us."

"That doesn't change your status as a rock star, Adorable. Seriously. You're really good. And you're too young to give up at this. You have too many fans that would follow you anywhere."

"I don't know, Perky. I'm not a trash man anymore. What happens to The Trash Men now that they're out of the garbage game?"

"You ever write something of your own?" I ask. "Something that's not so trashy?"

"Trash was our everything."

"It was your shtick, Adorable. You don't need shtick. Not with those eyes, and that hair, and that tall lanky frame. Not with that heart that shines whenever you enter a room."

"I don't know, Perky," he whispers.

By this time we're pulling down a seriously long drive and there's a tall, white mansion at the end that looks like it could eat my house for a snack. "Waste management?" I ask in awe.

"You know it," Adorable replies.

"You sure you want out?"

The look Adorable gives me makes me whisper a quick apology. We don't need their money. Adorable and I will figure it out just like every non-hooking, non-mobster family out there. I take his hand securely in mine as we walk through the front entrance, and then I hold on for dear life as I gaze at all of the artwork and the woodwork and the servants and the rugs and, just, _everything_.

"Your mom must do a good business too," I whisper.

"I never hurt for Skin So Soft," he replies, pulling me down a hall towards the back of the house.

"Perky?" he asks, stopping suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"That stuff Jasper was saying about your sister and the…" Adorable pauses and bends his lips to my ear, "feds," he whispers. "It's not true, is it?"

I shake my head. "Pixie talks to my dad all the time. They don't talk about me, though. It's like a rule between them, or something. But she's not with the -" Before I can finish the sentence, Adorable's covered my mouth with his hand.

"Okay," he says. "Just checking."

I pull his hand from my face and wrap his arm around my waist. "Anything else before I meet your lube supplier, Adorable?"

"It's for my dry hands, Perky," he growls with a smile. "You better not tell mom anything different."

"Or what?" I ask, laughing, daring.

That's all it takes. Adorable tickle-attacks me, and before I know it we're wrestling and tickling and laughing, rolling on the hallway floor.

"Eddie? What in the world?" Comes a soft voice from somewhere above us.

Adorable instantly lets me go and scrambles to his feet. He holds his hands clasped in front of him, hiding what's left of a half-hard Mr. Ed. I thank god they don't keep dryers in the hallways, or else there's no telling what Mrs. Cullenieri might have found.

I gingerly stand to my feet, making sure all of the important parts are covered, blushing and smiling as politely as I can manage.

"You brought… a friend, Eddie?" the small woman asks Adorable with a twinkle in her eye. She's a little shorter than me, and a little plumper than me, her hair's a little lighter than mine, but we've both got big brown eyes.

"A girlfriend, mom," Adorable says, taking my hand, biting his lip.

Mrs. Cullenieri smiles warmly. "Does this girlfriend have a name?"

"Per-, I mean, Bell."

"Bell?" she asks, holding her hand out to me.

"Or Belinda, ma'am. Whichever you prefer," I add trying to make my grip firm but not too firm and girlie and warm, and just the best darn handshake I can give.

"Ma'am will never do, Bell. I'm Esme. And I'm so pleased to finally meet one of Eddie's girlfriends!"

Esme drops my hand and pulls Adorable into a big hug. "See, Eddie, I knew it was a good idea for you to get back into family fold! Just a few days now, and you've been to brunch, you've hung out with your father, and now, a girlfriend." Adorable's mom steps back and surveys us both. "This is perfect," she decides with a nod.

Adorable clutches my hand so hard that it's beginning to hurt.

"Actually, mom, that's why I'm here -"

"Come with me, you two, I just had another shipment from Tanya." Esme continues on as she bustles down the long hall. I drag Adorable after her. "And since you went through it so quickly last time, I thought, well, why not?"

She's led us into an Avon supply storeroom, packed to the gills with cleansers and toners and body washes and costume jewelry. Esme rifles through boxes, and finally turns towards us holding out a gallon jug of Skin So Soft in her hands. "It's been a rough winter," she says gravely, handing the moisturizer to her son.

I try to smother my laughter. It almost works.

"And since I'm getting out of the business," she continues, "I figure this will hold you over until you find a new supplier."

"What?" I ask. "Out of the Avon business?"

"It's a dirty game, Bell. It's not like it used to be. Now there's the Internet, and organics, and even Skin So Soft has knock offs. Body So Soft does _not _compare, but people don't want to hear it. It's not an old woman's game. Do you know any young ladies looking for work, Bell? I have a built-in client base, I just don't have the will anymore."

"Um, yeah, actually I think I do."

If I could just keep Sparkle's sparkles under wraps so she didn't blind our customers, I think I knew two women that would be more than willing to take over Esme Cullenieri's cosmetics route.

"Maybe we could talk about it later, Esme," I offer. "I wouldn't want Adorable over here to have to worry about his, um, _dry skin_." Adorable kicks me in the shin and I'm dying to see if he'll live up to his threat.

"Adorable?" Esme asks looking between the two of us, interrupting my plans to let Mr. Ed out of the bag. "Well, I'm biased when it comes to Eddie, but I happen to agree." She reaches up and pinches her son's cheek. "Completely Adorable," she pronounces with a smile. Adorable grins bashfully and shakes his mom's hand from his stubbly face.

It makes me miss my own mom, even though I never really knew her. I wonder if maybe, one day, Esme could be a kind of stand-in. She could initiate me into the world of Avon Sales and smile kindly, just like she is now, and maybe she'd have Adorable and I over for lunches.

"Mom, we're not here about the Avon business."

"But I do really do want to talk about that later," I interrupt.

"Well, what are you here for, honey?" she asks Adorable. "To introduce me to Bell, no doubt?"

"Well, yeah, mom. I love her, and I want us to be happy together. And I want us to have good lives. Like a good life together." Adorable wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I sigh and fall against him listening to his words.

"Oh, Eddie, I'm so happy for the two of you."

"And that means that I want out of the business, mom. Not the Avon business. The _other_ business."

Esme's eyes go wide and she starts shaking her head slowly. "Not in front of guests, dear," she hisses.

"Bell's not a guest, mom. And she knows."

"Oh no," Esme whispers, clutching her hands together. "What if you're father -"

"I'm tired of this mom! Sure, I was an idiot. I got into this for Bell, but it was a really stupid move. I made a mistake, and I've got to make it right."

"Wait, for _Bell_?" Esme asks. "For Isa_bell_a?" She starts looking me over a little more critically.

"Please don't start, Mrs. Cullenieri," I ask, taking a seat on a crate of Moisture Seduction Lipstick. "I'm out of the business, too. I promise. And it's all because of your son. I love him, and I want to make this work. I want to get a decent job, and live a decent life, and just be happy."

Adorable walks across the storeroom, places the Skin So Soft jug he's been holding on a box of Lift and Firm Pro Serum, and takes my hands in his. "I love you, Perky," he whispers.

"Me too, Adorable," I murmur back.

"Please, mom," he asks, never taking his dark green eyes off of mine. "I'll never ask for anything again. Especially if I start getting my Skin So Soft from Perky."

"Well, dear, I don't know what I can do. Your father is in charge of that side of things. You know that."

"You're his wife, mom. You've been his wife for twenty-five years. I'm sure you could think of something."

"You're really out, Bell?" Esme asks me with raised eyebrows.

"We want to live the straight and narrow, Mrs. Cullenieri," I assure her. Well, all except for some rope and harness and a few plans between the digits sixty-eight and seventy-two, but she doesn't have to know about any of that.

"Well, then, I can't give you two any guarantees, but I can give it my all." Esme begins rooting through the stacks and pulls out a small box. She hides the label from the two of us. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Eddie, it seems I have some work to do on your father. Lovely meeting you, Bell. When all of this is settled I'd love to have the two of you over for lunch. We can discuss the dynamic world of Avon sales."

"I can't wait, Mrs. Cullenieri," I gush, and I mean it. I really can't.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews for the last couple of chapters! Next update: probably late tonight. xxx, M**


	38. Proof, Plans and Peters

**EPOV**

I knew mom would like Perky. I mean, who wouldn't? Back when I first met her, Perky was just a garbage goddess to me, but now she's so much more. She's funny and smart and engaging, and she looks great naked, and when she's wearing clothes, and she's really good with knots. She makes me want to do big things for her, and for myself - for _us_, I guess. And she makes me happy when we're doing nothing, all at the same time.

Loving her's surprised the hell out of me. It's changed me forever. It's worth losing the Trash Men. I hold her hand tight the whole way home from my parent's house. She's everything to me, now.

I want to ask Perky if she was just being nice about all the Avon stuff, or if she's really looking to go into door-to-door cosmetic sales, but I can't get a word in edgewise. She's over-the-top excited that my mom's going to help us out.

"Now it's just Aro, Adorable," Perky chatters. "And I really think Pixie might be able to fix that part of it. I can't wait to see what she came up with!"

Avon sales or no Avon sales, that whole thing she did with my mom's business just made me love Perky that much more. She really knew how to connect with mom. And that stuff she said about having a decent life, being happy, she didn't say it out loud, but I'm pretty sure she meant _with me_. I want to ask her about that, too.

Perky keeps babbling as we pull into her driveway. "I'm so glad we called Alice. I'm so glad we have a plan, kind of. I love having a plan. And a plan to make you all mine, Adorable…" Perky squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek.

"What about a plan like that?" I ask hopefully.

Instead of getting out the passenger door, Perky climbs onto my lap. She takes my face in her hands, her legs straddling mine. "I can't believe you're real, Adorable. I keep thinking any minute now you're going to blink and wake up and realize you're doing this all for an ex-call girl."

"I'm doing it for you," I remind her, pulling out her ponytail and running my fingers through her hair.

"Aren't they the same thing?" she asks, brushing her nose against mine.

"Yeah. That's why I'd do it no matter who you were. Because you're you."

"And that's why I can't believe you're real," she replies, settling on my lap, wrapping her hands around my neck. "I think I need proof, Adorable."

Perky gives me this knowing look with her big brown eyes. _Proof?_ She rocks her crotch over Mr. Ed_. Sex?_ Her tits brush against my chest. _Sexy proof?_

Maybe she's looking for a number. She knocked down my suggestion about sixty-eight before, and honestly, seventy-one using my finger, sure, but with hers, it makes me nervous. I mean, I'd totally do it. I can't say no to a naked Perky. But I don't know if I'd come right out and suggest it.

Perky's waiting, watching my face, biting her lip. She's so cute, and so hopeful about something. She's kind of giving me a lap dance in the driver's seat of an old white limo.

"Seventy-two?" I suggest.

It wasn't the right answer. Her face falls and Perky slides off my lap and climbs out of the car. "We should go," she sighs. "And don't listen to me. I'm kind of crazy sometimes."

I already know that. It's one of the reasons I love her.

"But Sparkle and Pop?" Perky asks as we walk up the path to the door, like nothing at all just happened. "That part of the plan worries me a little." Perky fishes her keys out of her purse and begins unlocking the front door. "And what about Crackle? We can't just leave him tied up like -"

Perky's words die in her throat and her face goes pale. I follow her through the front door only to see…

"What the fuck?" Perky and I both ask in unison.

Crackle's still bound and gagged, and Pixie and Sparkle are kneeling in front of him, tucking his Johnson into his jeans. Pixie's still got that whip in her hand and she's looking a little flushed. Crackle manages to shrug his shoulders when he sees us, like he had nothing to do with any of it.

"When I handed you the flogger, Pixie, I had no idea you'd put it to such good use," Perky chuckles. "But the man that wanted you dead, and Sparkle too? That's kinky, even for me."

"Oh my god, Bell," Sparkle protests, jumping to her feet. "I was just helping the guy pee."

"P?" I ask. "Are there letters too?"

"_Pee_," Pixie repeats, and she holds out a big beer stein filled to the top with frothy, oh, right, frothy piss. Pee.

"Pop wouldn't help," Sparkle says, shaking her head at her boyfriend.

"Damn right," Pop agrees from across the room, holding up his hands. "I don't touch anyone's peter but my own."

"Peter?" Sparkle laughs, ogling Pop's crotch.

"No more nicknames," Perky warns.

Pixie seems a little reluctant as she climbs to her feet. She's got the whip in one hand and a beer stein full of piss in the other. Perky's right. Seriously kinky.

"How'd it go with the Avon lady, guys?" she asks as she makes her way to the powder room. The pee splashes into the toilet, and it's pretty obvious that Crackle really had to go.

"Pretty good I think," Perky says as she flops down on the couch. "She said she'd try to help. What's happening on the Aro front?"

I take a seat next to Perky. She snuggles in next to me, but I can't help but think her smile's a little sad.

"Well," Pixie says, walking back into the living room, wiping her hands on a purple towel, "We've got a plan, and Sparkle and Pop are perfect for it. Here's the thing: Aro's got two weaknesses: women and glittery things."

"Wait, wait," I interrupt. "How do you know that, Pixie?"

"Oh, Adorable, that's easy," Perky replies. "All men have those weaknesses. It's a trick of the trade."

Pop and Crackle nod, and I can't help but think she's probably right. I imagine Perky sparkling, kind of like in that Brittney Spears video with that see through, glittering body suit thingy. Shit. I wonder if we can get our hands on one of those.

"Plus, it's my job," Pixie adds, snapping me out of it. "As a P.I., you know."

"Pixie's good," Sparkle agrees. Somewhere along the line she's changed into one of Perky's silk robes, and I can finally look at her without bringing on a migraine.

Pixie smiles at Sparkle before she continues, "So, we're going to use Sparkle to distract Aro, and Pop's going to use his Navy Seal training to infiltrate the organization and get the files we need to bring the organization down."

"That doesn't make any sense," Perky says, shaking her head. "They're not going to have _files_ about murder and stuff, are they?"

"Murder never brings down a mob family, Perky," Pixie offers with a roll of her eyes. "It's stuff like taxes and collusion and trafficking, and cornering certain markets."

"Does Pop even know what collusion is?" I ask, looking between Pixie and my bass player. I'm not convinced. Pop doesn't even know the difference between the Feds and Fed Ex.

"I'll tell him what we need," Pixie says, shaking her head at me like I'm the dense one in the room.

"But, wait, sis," Perky says, suddenly clutching my knee. "We can't sit around and just dangle Sparkle in front of Aro as bait. She just got out, and we're sending her right back in!"

"She won't be alone, Perky."

"I thought you said Perky wasn't a part of this plan!" I said, standing to my feet, towering over Pixie. I'm not letting Perky risk her life for my mistakes. There's only one man I know that's worse than my dad, and it's Aro Volturi.

"Perky's not going," Pixie says with a self-assured smile and a loving glance at her whip. "I'm going too."

* * *

**A/N: I made you wait for this. Sorry! I'll try not to do that again. Next update, no more than 24 hours. Hopefully sooner. xxx, M**


	39. Damned Adorable Trash Man

**BPOV**

I try to pay attention as everyone sits around the kitchen table eating Chinese food and going over the plan. It's hard to concentrate, though, because I'm trying to figure out when I changed. I'm also trying to figure out when I scored all of these friends willing to help me and Adorable out. And, most of all, I'm trying to figure out when I started counting on this man being in my future.

Then I try to push those thoughts out of my head. He's young. He's in love. He thinks about seventy-two a lot (and seventy-two's not the kind of thing I usually take for granted, mind you). But, best-case scenario, seventy-two lasts about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes seems a lot longer when you're twenty-two.

It makes me scared. Maybe I'll be left alone, aching for whatever comes after seventy-two. Maybe all I'll have when this is over is an Avon route. Maybe I'll break down every time I see a bottle of Skin So Soft. I have the insane impulse to steal the gallon jug we left in the limo and hide it away in my room.

I must be crazy, or maybe there's just a very good reason I never got into relationships. Maybe I can't handle them. Maybe somewhere deep down I always knew I'd fall for a trash man, ruin his life and drag down his friends and family with him.

"Something wrong with your broccoli?" Adorable asks, squeezing my knee, smiling sweetly. He hadn't even had to ask what I wanted when he ordered our food.

"No, the broccoli's great, Adorable. It's all just kind of… overwhelming." _I'm scared how much I love you._

"Things are going so fast." _My feelings for you are out of control_.

"And everything's changed."_ I used to be so confident, like, just yesterday, or maybe it was the day before. _

"And I'm not sure how this is all going to play out." _I'm scared to think about how you and I are going to end up. _

"I think I understand," he breathes as he rubs a rough thumb pad over my cheek. I smile. He's always thinking, but there's no way Adorable has any idea about the crazy thoughts suddenly swirling through my brain. "Why don't you take a break?" he suggests. "I think Pixie has things under control in here."

"Okay," I agree, and he slides his huge hand from my shoulder to my hip as I stand to my feet.

"I think it's going to be okay, Perky," Adorable offers, squeezing my hip. His fingers seem to reach for my ass and I can't help but lean into his touch.

"But what happens after everything's okay?" I ask.

"What?" Adorable asks, furrowing his brow, thinking, trying to figure me out.

"Nothing. More crazy talk. Let me know if anything happens, okay?"

"Sure, Perky."

xXxXx

I wander into the living room hating myself for being so weak. Hell, I'm as bad as Julia. Just when I get out of the game, that's when I start acting all _Pretty Woman_. I'm an idiot.

Crackle raises his eyebrows as I flop onto the couch.

"No need to get up, Crackle," I laugh, checking to make sure he's still securely cuffed. Crackle shakes his head at my bad joke, leans back and stretches his legs in front of him, getting all comfy, kind of. I wonder idly where Pixie stashed his gun.

"I can't believe you were going to kill my sister."

Crackle shrugs.

"I know you were always a hard ass: Jasper the Task-Master and all that, but pushing Adorable to do this, when he wasn't sure, that's just not cool, Crackle."

Crackle looks at his lap and shrugs again.

"Adorable could have been killed."

Putting Adorable's name in the same sentence with death does unpleasant things to my stomach. Crackle doesn't make eye contact.

"You ever care about someone, Crackle?" I ask.

His icy blue eyes meet mine, and even gagged, I can tell that he has.

"Because I don't know how to deal. Suddenly I'm scared and needy and the future freaks me out. And it happened so quickly. The idea that you put him in danger makes me want to wrestle that flogger out of Pixie's hands and really let you have it. And the idea that this could end, for any reason… God, I'm being a baby," I mutter, wiping my eyes.

"Ylvn kha ya mbrsnd wha floosnges."

I peer over at Crackle and there's drool trickling from his mouth and down his chin. "What?" I ask.

"Ylvn kha ya mbrsnd wha floosnges," he tries again. His face is all red from the exertion, the muscles of his jaw taut and uncomfortable-looking.

It takes me a second to snap back to reason and to figure out that Crackle's trying to say something to me. I bend over and unbuckle his ball gag. Crackle starts working his jaw back and forth, gasping for air. He's obviously never done this before.

"What were you saying, Crackle?" I ask.

He looks at me like I'm nuts. But I've already established that. "Just now?" I clarify.

"Love makes you understand what losing is. Now, can I get some water? Maybe some pork fried rice?"

"Love makes you understand what losing is," I mumble, turning the thought over in my head.

I'm not a loser. I proved that I could be a whore, just like dad said, and still come out on top. Almost.

"He loves you too," Crackle adds.

"I know."

But the thought of losing Adorable one day makes me hurt. I mean, he'll want some young pretty thing that isn't all used up, who he doesn't have to worry about running into a million ex-Johns with, who has a normal family and, and, and… tears splash down my face. I've never wanted any of this before.

Damned adorable trash man, damned perky hooker.

"I promise not to kill your sister, Perky," Crackle offers. "As long as she keeps helping me take a piss."

I laugh as I cry and loosen Crackle's harness a little, and then I wipe my eyes and walk back into the meeting in the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N: You can blame those leaked BD stills for any delay in this chapter. Now, #1) Review, #2) Go back and gaze at those arms, that headboard, that knee bent all the way up to there, his nose almost touching hers, the splintered wood, those arms. **

**Happy Dreams... xxx, M**


	40. Ed the Musician

**A/N: Ed the Musician was an actual episode of Mr. Ed that aired in April 1964.**

**EPOV**

I turn off the lights in the kitchen and make my way to the stairs. Pixie's on her cell in the living room and Crackle looks on, rapt.

"I'll see you this weekend, okay, honey... Sure… I will… I love you too, Nessie. Night."

"Nessie?" Crackle asks when Pixie ends the call.

"My daughter, Jenessa, not that it's any of your business."

"You said Nessie."

"It's her nickname."

"My truck's named Nessie," Jasper offers. "And I think I have to pee."

xXxXx

I pass by the spare room on my way to Perky's bedroom. Sparkle and Pop are settling in for the night.

"I don't care what Perky says, after lights out, I'm calling it Peter."

"Enough about mine, what about yours? How'd you make it sparkle like that, Sparkle?"

"I've been vagazzled."

xXxXx

Perky's in the master bath. The water's running. The door's closed. She's never closed a door before; it goes against her nature, I think. But it makes sense, I guess, with a houseful of guests… They're more than guests, really, they're people willing to put everything on the line for the two of us… and Crackle.

I throw myself onto Perky's big bed. I listen to water splash. She's so nervous about all of this. I wonder what to say. I know not to mention anything about seventy-two. I know that her broccoli was fine. I know telling her that I have a feeling it's going to turn out okay is useless.

What did she say?

"_What happens after everything's okay?"_

I mean, then it's just all okay, right? I'm missing something.

I think about tomorrow night. The plan Pixie came up with. The show. All of those Trash Fans are holding advance tickets to nothing. We'll have to figure out how to dispose of Crackle by then. Pop will be handing over information on Aro to the Feds. Since I'm too recognizable to do any of the undercover shit and save my own hide, I'll be the last Trash Man standing.

The bathroom door clicks open and a wet Perky emerges with her long hair hanging down her back and wrapped in a fluffy purple towel. She looks like a different Perky: small, and delicate, and vulnerable. I suck in a chestfull of air without meaning to at all.

"You look…" I begin, but my voice trails off. I don't know words that can pin how she makes me feel. I blink, helpless. She smiles a little and walks into the closet.

"I think Crackle likes Pixie," she says.

"I think they might have a thing or two in common," I offer.

"Guns?" Perky asks, as she walks back into the bedroom wearing a purple silk nightshirt.

"And Nessies," I reply, forcing air through my windpipe. No matter what she's wearing or not wearing, Perky takes my breath away.

She stands at the foot of the bed like she doesn't know what to do with herself. I'm seriously doubtful that that's the case. Lying on my back, staring at her, well, I know it must be obvious that I have a few ideas.

"Whoa there, Mr. Ed." Perky says with a sad smile. She walks over to the nightstand, clicks a button on the remote, and season four of Mr. Ed whirs into action on the big screen, muted, so the room flickers in the white and gray shadow of a talking horse and his owner.

"Come to bed?" I ask. I pull my Jane's Addiction T-shirt over my head and toss it on the ground. At some point, I'm going to need to bring some more of my stuff over here. All of it, maybe. But Perky hasn't said anything along those lines.

She slides next to me and lies on her back like I am. We stare at one another in the ceiling mirror. Her nightshirt blends right in with the silk mattress cover so she looks like a pretty face and hands and legs, and tangled, long brown hair. She's so much more than that, and I don't just mean her torso.

My hand finds hers. She sighs and her eyes look suddenly wet.

I'm about to tell her one more time that I think it will work, but I stop myself. I'm dying for a clue. Anything. I decide to repeat what she told me earlier today. Maybe it will help me to figure out what I'm missing.

"Belinda?"

"Edward?"

"You're overwhelmed?"

She nods her head and holds her breath and clutches my hand.

"And things are… changing and going faster and faster."

Perky bites her lip.

"And even though we're all pretty positive about the outcome, no one knows what will happen."

Perky curls into a fetal position and tucks her head into my side.

"I love you so much, trash man," she whispers.

"I love you too."

Proof. Sex. Sexy proof. What happens after everything's okay?

On the wall in front of us, Mr. Ed's turned himself into a one-horse band.

I turn and curl around Perky. She breathes hard and deep, and I watch her chest rise and fall and it's not about sex.

"I love you Perky," I whisper into her wet hair. My hands search for the soft under all of that purple silk.

"Love makes you understand what losing is," she says, her voice soft and hushed enough to make my body tingle.

I don't get it.

"I almost have more than I ever bargained for, Perky. We're so close."

"I know." She shivers against me. My hand finally finds its way under the nightshirt, across her slender back.

Mr. Ed plays his music for Wilbur on the screen. The reflections from the symbols make staccato shadows on Perky's face. It almost hides the tears. I'm totally lost in a sea of purple silk.

"What do I have to do?" I ask.

"Just hold me, Adorable. Hold me."

"I can do that."

"You do it really well."

"I try really hard."

"One of the reasons I love you," she says in a small voice, hanging onto me like she's afraid I'm going to disappear.

"There are so many reasons I love you, Perky. And at the same time, there aren't any reasons, you know? Like it's bigger than a list. It just is."

She sighs. "What reasons?"

And I list the reasons - as many as I can think of. Eventually, Perky relaxes her grip. Then she relaxes her limbs. And finally, as I'm whispering words and holding her hips, she falls asleep in my arms. When she's quiet, and the house is quiet, I slip out of her grasp, slide off the bed, and tiptoe through the house and through the back door so I don't wake Pixie and Crackle cramped and asleep on the couch.

I wasn't sure if I had the guts to scale the wall the other night. I'd brought something as backup. It's time to live up to my dick's namesake. Time to act like Mr. Ed.

* * *

**A/N: Rob porn has rendered me useless. This shall be the one and only update today. Sigh.**

**I should have mentioned this eons ago, but many to thanks to LittleSis2010 for suggesting Rubbish as the title for this trashy fic.**

**Thanks to all that have pimped this silly story. That's kind of awesome.**

**Updates will come over the weekend. Stay tuned. xxx, M**


	41. Fighting to Lose

**BPOV**

I wake up alone and still clothed in pajamas and I'm totally thrown; I don't think anything like this has happened in over ten years. There's an indentation in the pillow where Adorable's head was last night, but he's not in the bed with me. His T-shirt's not on the floor where he threw it. My insides flip-flop and I'm up and out of the bed.

It's eight a.m. The only time I'm ever up this early is for the trash. I've actually lost all track of trash days, again. Garbage is piling up in the backyard. And now my trash man is missing.

There's tandem snoring coming from the guest room. Sparkle and Pop are making funny buzz-saw music in their sleep. Downstairs, Crackle and Pixie are passed out under a purple throw. Her suit pants are thrown on top of a pile of rope. Pixie's handgun is all mixed up with leftover Chinese food on the coffee table. Crackle's still handcuffed and harnessed, though. I decide to let the two of them sort it all out.

I find Adorable sleeping out back amidst overflowing trashcans and out of control recycling. He's on the chaise clutching his guitar to his chest like I wish he was clutching me. Adorable looks really young when he sleeps, and really hot. It makes my chest hurt.

I'm about to slip out of my p.j.'s and slide right up next to him, maybe glide my hand in Mr. Ed's general direction, when I hear a car pull up the drive. I'm not expecting anyone and I see no reason to wake the troops, but I kind of wish I had Alice's gun as I quickly sneak around the side of the house - that is, until I see the pink Cadillac.

What the hell?

I march down the driveway, and catch the Avon lady by surprise as she's getting out of the Mary Kay car.

"I thought you sold Avon, Mrs. Cullenieri!"

Adorable's mom startles and I feel instantly bad. I don't work for Avon yet. What does it matter to me if she's driving around in the competition's Caddy? "I started out with Mary Kay," she explains. "But then I found out about their stance on animal rights. I've been an Avon rep ever since."

I can't help myself. "_Animal_ rights? You do know what your husband does for a living, don't you?"

She purses her lips. "That's why I'm here, Bell."

"And you knew where 'here' was, because…"

"Carmine had the address. You worked as something of a sub-contractor for my husband, I think," she says quietly without looking at my face.

"I guess I did."

"I guess you did."

"Everyone's asleep," I say, suddenly self-conscious.

"_Everyone_?" the Avon lady asks.

I think about my bottomless sister and the handcuffed mini-mobster in the living room.

"Would you mind sitting outside? On the bench out front?"

I don't think I've ever actually used the bench on the front porch before. I've had so many firsts lately.

"That would be lovely," Esme agrees.

We sit. Esme smiles nervously. I realize I've just jumped down her throat about a large pink luxury vehicle and directions to my home. I think I should apologize. But before I get started, she unclasps her purse and pulls out a tube of Avon Intense Glazewear lip-gloss. When she's finished, her lips look very red and very wet.

"You really like the product?" I ask.

"Would you really like to sell it?" she asks back.

"Well, I need a job. I know a thing or two about cosmetics. And I, uh, well, I want to like you, and I want you to like me."

Esme smiles. "My son loves you, I think."

I shake my head. "Crazy, huh?"

"No, somewhat understandable, actually. You're very pretty. But mostly, you're strong, Bell. I can tell. In many ways Eddie's as strong as his dad, but he's vulnerable too. You have that hard outer shell he's always admired."

"I think it cracked," I laughed.

"Who's hasn't dear?" Esme asks. "Especially in this business."

"Cosmetics?" I ask.

"I spoke with Carmine, Bell."

I jump up. "Should I get Ador-, I mean, Edward?"

Esme grabs my hand tenderly and pulls me back to sitting. "Adorable?" she asks with a friendly smile. I can see where my man picked up some of his sweet. I smile back at her.

"Can you blame me for calling him that?" I ask. I know she can't. I remember the cheek pinch.

"If I wanted to speak with Eddie, Bell, I'd be at his place right now."

I'm torn. I'm no hooker these days, but I'm no nun either. Adorable hasn't slept at his apartment for days. Up until last night, I've slept with her son as often as physically possible, and I've got him ready for light bondage and ass play. Something tells me that you don't share this with your boyfriend's mother, but I don't want to lie either. I think quick, searching for a safe middle ground.

"Adorable's not home. He passed out on my patio last night."

"Your patio?" she asks, looking me over from head to toe like it's located somewhere on my body.

"Out back," I clarify with a nod towards the backyard.

"Oh, right." Esme blushes. Thank god I left out ass play.

"Now that we've established all that…" I begin, but Esme quickly interrupts.

"Eddie's out, Bell."

"Out… Out? Out!" I throw my arms around the small woman. "Oh my god! Thank you! I'm so sorry about before in the driveway. I haven't been myself and -"

"For now."

My limbs freeze mid-hug. "What did you say?"

Esme wriggles out of my arms and scoots backwards on the bench.

"And my husband would like to see you."

"What did you say?" I repeat. "For _now_? He's out for now? What does that mean?"

Esme takes a deep breath. She's no longer looking me in the eye.

"As long as the two of you are together, Eddie's out. But he loves you, so -"

"No. That's unacceptable, Esme."

"I thought maybe you would be happy. This way -"

"This way, _what_? This way he's stuck with me? This way I never know why he stays? This way I get your prized boy for a couple months longer, and then he gets to jump back into the _mafia_?"

"Ssshhhh!" Esme hisses.

"No! Why would your husband do this?"

At the same time my temper's raging, I _want_ to be happy with this news. That little _Pretty Woman_ inside begs me to run to Adorable and tell him to stay with me forever and stay out of the mob. But, I'm not that chick. I won't entrap that sweet and sexy, messy-haired man who still hasn't tried a proper seventy-one. I just won't do it.

"I'm sorry, Bell. I tried to get him out free and clear," Esme says, placing her hand over mine. "I pulled out all the stops."

"Yeah, I think you need a bigger box," I reply, shaking my head.

"Excuse me?" Esme asks.

"That box you tried to hide yesterday."

Esme blushes again. "It usually works," she mutters half to herself, pulling her hand into her lap.

"Weapons of choice?" I ask.

"Skin So Soft Fresh & Smooth Hot Wax & Tahitian Holiday Shimmering Glow. The sparkles kind of…"

"Oh, I know," I say with a nod of my head. "Sparkles usually do the trick. Your husband must be a strong man. When can I see him, Esme?"

"This afternoon. Our home."

"You got it, Mrs. Cullenieri. Can you do me a favor, though? Don't tell Adorable, okay? Not until I've seen his father."

"That's fine, dear. For some reason, Carmine wanted you to be the one to tell Eddie. I'm so sorry that my family has caused you so much trouble, Bell."

"Well, I guess your son's worth it."

"I really like you, Belinda."

I like Esme too. With a little more assertiveness, she'd be a kick-ass mom. But who am I to judge? I don't know what it's like to be married to the mob. A couple weeks with Adorable and I nearly fell to pieces. No more, though. I'm not letting some mob boss trap Adorable into a relationship with me. It might be the stupidest move I ever make, but I've got to make sure that Adorable's free to go.

Love makes you understand what losing is.

I'm going to fight to lose the man I love.

I'm such an idiot.

After Esme leaves, I lose something else: my nightshirt... on the way to the back porch. Maybe he'll decide to leave, but I'll be damned if he remembers me all sad and clingy. Not when he looks as sexy as he does first thing in the morning, not when there's so much he's never tried yet, not when there's a pile of unused rope in the living room.

* * *

**A/N: At least one more before the weekend's out. **

**Why'd Carmine do this? Answers to come.**

**Why's Perky so against it? Well, the girl's stronger than me. I might settle for making him stay.**

**xxx, M**


	42. What Happens When You Push a Prostate?

**EPOV**

Chaise lounges are more fragile than you'd think. I don't know what the prostate does, but it's now my second favorite body part. Apparently, Perky's lost her clothes again, and I give her my T-shirt after I let her untie me from the broken patio furniture. I toss the pieces onto her growing piles of trash. My legs are shaky.

"We've got to do something about all this," I say, looking at the overflowing bins. My voice still isn't working right. Perky knows more about my body than I do.

"I can't be bothered with trash now that you're not on the truck." She leans against the wall and smiles sweetly. She bites her lip; she pinches a nipple through soft cotton.

Something snaps.

I drop the trash and cross the patio in a heartbeat.

"Oh my g -"

But she can't finish because I kiss her hard as I yank at her T-shirt. I find her tits; I find her snatch. My finger invades. Then I remember. Not just one. I know what she likes, and after being tied up, I need this. Her knees buckle, and we go down, in the grass, next to the trash. Me on top. My tongue in her mouth and as many fingers as I can fit inside.

"Oh god oh god oh god."

My ass still tingles. I think I need protein. I love her. I want to show her. I love her.

"I love you," I mumble into her mouth. I twist my hand, my fingers curl, her hips buck against me.

I pull down my jeans, and switch out a hand for a horse. I wipe her arousal on her tits and I don't hold back.

"Harder," she breathes.

Really?

I _really_ don't hold back. I hold her as tight as possible, and over and over and over I pound her into the dirt.

"I can take it," she says and she wraps her legs around me and bites my ear and scratches my back.

I flip her over and spread her legs and hold her hair.

"Pull harder," she pleads.

I do. I pull her hands off the ground until we're both on our knees in the dirt, trash all around us. Her back's flush with my chest, her perky tits are in my hands, and I fuck for all I'm worth. Until she's loud, until she says it.

"Edward. Edward! Ed-ward!"

And she's wetter and tighter and, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

And it's over. I hold her close. I don't know what happened last night. I slipped away to come up with proof or something, and before she could even hear it Perky came back to me, bolder and better than ever.

"I love you," she says, gasping for air.

Mr. Ed slips out.

"I don't understand you," I blurt out. I'm sure they must be the wrong words.

"I don't understand me either, Adorable. I'm learning, I guess."

She leans her head back so that it rests on my shoulder. Her legs are trembling. I kiss the top of her head.

"You already know so much, Perky."

"You liked it, then? Waking up like that?" she asks with a giggle. I feel the weight or her breasts as she laughs.

"You know the answer." I wrap my arms tighter. I can't help it; I play with her tits. They're the best tits. Ever.

"I wish we could do this all day," she says.

"I don't know if I could," I reply honestly.

Perky hobbles on her knees and turns to face me. She holds my face I her hands. "You could take it. I know you could. Maybe, when all this is over we could try."

"Tomorrow?" I ask. It's hard to believe, but it should all be settled then.

"I hope," she says, searching my eyes for something, looking seriously unsettled. But the insecurity is gone in a second and my confident Perky's back. She kisses my neck.

"Tomorrow then," I agree. "Seventy-one, and ropes, and my hand up inside you."

"And fucking me hard," she adds as she rubs against me and cups my balls in her warm little hand. Mr. Ed's suddenly taking warm-up laps or something, even though he should be cooling down.

"How about fucking you slow, too?" I ask. "Like this? Staring into your eyes? Holding your ass in my hands?"

She catches her breath and her eyelids flutter. Stray trash from the overfull cans blows by in the breeze.

"Promise?" she asks, resting her head against my chest.

"Absolutely," I murmur as I run my hand through her hair and tilt her head so that I can press her lips to mine.

_What happens after everything's okay?_

Sex all day?

I don't know if that's right.

I don't know if I should care.

From inside the house urine splashes into the toilet. Someone groans with relief.

"_Feel better?" Pixie asks._

"_Maybe I could help you next time," Crackle replies._

"_Keep dreaming, Crackle."_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

Perky sighs.

"You think they can pull this off?" I ask, my lips brushing against hers.

"If our friends don't, Adorable, then I will. I won't rest until you're out. You hear me?"

"As long as I have you, Perky."

"No," she says. "Longer."

* * *

**A/N: Just when I think I'm advancing the story, Perky pushes and Adorable snaps. Seriously, it's no joke from here on in. Who the hell am I kidding? It's all kind of a joke. **

**I just mean that the plan's in motion. Sparkle, Pop and Pixie will infiltrate Aro's crew, Perky will confront Carmine, and there's a Trash Man-less show scheduled for tonight in Rubbish land.**

**find me on facebook at: ht tp : / / www . facebook . com/belladonna . cullen2 **

**on twitter at: BellaDCullen**

**Please review?**

**xxx. M**


	43. Sisters

**BPOV**

"How do you know this, Pixie?" I ask.

"You know what I do for a living, Bell," Pixie says as she pulls on a pair of fishnet thigh highs. On me they're knee-highs. I've had to alter a leather skirt and take in a tube top, but now Pixie looks like the perfect little hooker. Thank god we wear the same size shoes. She just better bring my boots back in perfect condition. Purple leather can be hard to find.

"Being a P.I. doesn't explain how you know this shit, Pixie." I try to find the perfect shade of eye shadow to bring out the golden flecks in her eyes, you know, since I'm planning on a career in cosmetics.

"Bell, Aro's the biggest crime boss in the state, second only to Cullenieri. If I didn't know about him, then I wouldn't be doing my job."

"You don't live in this state. Now close your eyes. Let me see about shadow."

Avon I-Mark Night Owl for her lids and Glitterati under her brows is perfect. It even pulls in the purple of the boots. I'm telling you, give me a chance and the Avon world won't know what hit it.

"Belinda, trust me." Pixie says and she smoothes my hair away from my face the same way she did when I was a scared kid and dad was out on assignment. It feels right to have her take care of me. I breathe a small sigh of relief before applying a dusting of Sparkling Ruby over her cheekbones.

"So, you and Sparkle called ahead to say you're coming to them from Laurent's old crew." I repeat the plan out loud. It helps me to focus. "You want a job, you have insider info, _and_ you glitter."

"Sparkling women with information on the competition will ensure that Aro's there," Pixie says with a self-assured nod of her head. "His men will be there, too."

"How do you know that?"

"They're gathering before The Trash Men's show to meet your Adorable. He's a big coupe for The Volturi. They've wanted him forever."

"I know," I admit. My heart sinks into my stomach and then, with a flying leap, it tries to pound out its way out of my chest so it can run away and hide. I hold onto it, though. My heart's not going anywhere. It's got to stick around and protect its owner. Yeah, my heart's owned by an adorable, loving man that fucks like a stallion.

I close my eyes and feel all over again the way his ass convulsed around my finger when I made him cum this morning. I remember how his mouth hung open and how his eyes were clenched tight, his white knuckles, and then, that look of dazzled, satisfied hunger when he opened his eyes for me.

"Open your pretty eyes, Adorable," I'd whispered.

I clench my thighs and feel what he did to me afterwards. I tied him up and let loose an animal. There's a reason we're standing as I apply Pixie's make-up.

"Bell, we're going to do this for you," Pixie assures me.

"Oh, Alice." I fall against her. Her arms don't do the same things Adorable's do to me. They don't make me feel safe. They don't make me feel secure. They don't make my skin tingle. If I lose Adorable, I lose all of that. If I really love him though, I have to be willing to lose him. After Pixie, Sparkle and Pop leave, I have to slip out and convince a mobster to give me the chance to lose.

Pixie hugs me tight.

"Is Pop up to this?" I ask as I let her strong little arms hold me up.

"He's military," she says as she pats my head. "He just needs very specific instruction, and he'll carry it out. That's what he's trained to do. I told him what information to look for. And I think I've got the password to Aro's mainframe."

"How?" I ask, pulling away from her so I can look her in the eye. Pixie knows so much it's scary.

"Bell, I told you…" her voice trails off. She shakes her head in exasperation. "All that glitters is gold. It was easy."

"Sparkles: they're like Aro's kryptonite, huh?" I ask.

"Something like that," she says. "He's a collector… of sparkly things. And some other stuff."

"What about _our_ Sparkle, Pixie?"

"I've got her back, Bell. Trust me, okay?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?" I ask.

Pixie places her little hands on my shoulders. I realize that she's going to need some polish. "I want you to trust me because I'm your big sister, not because you have to."

"I'm glad you're here, Pixie. Thank you. For everything."

"Thanks for letting me back, little sis."

"You're welcome any time," I say, and I mean it.

The Trash Men's voices float up from the living room. "So, uh, what's up with you and Crackle, huh?" I ask as I search for the perfect purple nail polish.

"That guy needs a doctor. He needs to pee like every five minutes." Alice smiles a little and looks away. Her cheeks look redder than Avon's Sparkling Ruby.

"It didn't seem like you minded so much, Pixie," I giggle. It's easier talking about her and Crackle than Adorable and me.

"I don't know if it's him or the harness, really," my sister admits in a tiny voice.

"Maybe it's him _in_ the harness?" I suggest.

"And me with that whip," she adds with a sly smile.

"That _flogger_," I correct. I mean, if you're going to use one, you should at least know what it's called.

"His truck's named Nessie," she says, almost hopefully.

"And you both have handguns," I add.

"Yeah," she says. "But he's in the mob and I'm holding him hostage and he tried to kill me. It would never work."

"Weirder things have happened, Alice. I was a call girl that fell in love with her trash man."

The look Pixie gives me reminds me that things between the hooker and the trash man haven't actually been sorted out yet. I blink hard and look away. I can't break. I've got a mobster to confront later. I've got an Adorable man to be strong for.

"We're going to make this okay for you and Adorable, Bell. I promise," Pixie says in a soft, comforting voice.

"Well, we better. And if we can swing things with Adorable and I, I think we should work on you and Crackle next."

Alice's eyes sparkle. I wonder if it's because of Crackle or if it's due to the Avon products. Probably a little of both.

* * *

**A/N: Apparently, I didn't do my job right. The story didn't end last week, did it? I hope you don't mind. I'm getting there.**

**I have a crazy work week ahead, so count on no more than one update daily. **

**Thanks for your reviews! Thanks for your tweets! **

**Find me at:**

**facebook: ht tp : / / www . facebook . com/belladonna . cullen2 **

**twitter: BellaDCullen**

**Until tomorrow, xxx, M**


	44. Fake and Former Hookers

**EPOV**

Perky seriously knows how to dress hookers for mob infiltration. My girl's the sexiest woman I know, but after she's done with Sparkle and Pixie, I can't take my eyes off them. She's got the sex and sparkle of it all down to a science. They glitter and glow in a subtle way and their clothes kind of show everything, but nothing at all. I know wires are hidden somewhere. I don't want to think about where that might be. Okay, shit, I do, but I'm afraid to ask.

I'm not the only guy incapacitated by Pixie and Sparkle. Pop alternates between freezing up and hovering over his new girlfriend, and Crackle's in a harness, so he's helpless to hide his excitement. For a little guy I'm kind of impr-, wait, scratch that… I don't check out other guys' business. Crackle just doesn't look too upset about his present condition. I'll leave it at that.

"Are you guys sure about this?" Perky asks, walking between her two models, straightening straps, dusting off imaginary lint, surveying her work. It's all proof that she'll be an awesome Avon lady, if you ask me.

"Of course, Bell," Sparkle says with a big smile and a nod. "Why not, right? It's a chance to do something besides, well… _you know_."

"I know," Perky says, giving her friend a hug. "You sure too, Pixie?" she asks her sister. "I mean, acting like a hooker's not always as easy as it seems."

"Oh, I think she'll do just fine," Crackle croaks.

Pixie gives him a playful kick with her purple boot. Crackle hisses and closes his eyes.

"I think I can fake it, sis. Now, it's time for Pop to get a move on. You know what to do, milita-, I mean, Pop," Pixie says. She doesn't say it like it's a question. She acts like she believes in him. Pop grins proudly and holds Sparkle close.

"I've got it all down, Pixie. And the sooner it's done, the sooner I swoop in and save your pretty asses."

"Ouch!" Sparkle shouts as she jumps and swats Pop's hand away from her backside. For the record, it's not half as pretty as Perky's.

"Well, I'm outta here, I guess," Pop says, and after a leaving Sparkle with a probing kiss and a couple of not so subtle gropes, he slips out the back door in a surprisingly stealthy way. I seriously never knew he had it in him.

A car horn honks from the driveway.

"That's our cab," Pixie says, grabbing for her purse.

"You're taking a cab to crack the mob?" Perky asks.

"We're going to be fine, sis," Pixie assures Perky. And with a few quick hugs and a long meaningful glance in Crackle's direction, the former and fake hooker are gone.

Perky bites her bottom lip and I wrap my arms around her. "Now I guess we turn on the surveillance stuff Pixie left us and just wait and listen, huh?" I ask.

"I can't wait and listen, Adorable. I've got an appointment."

"An appointment?"

"Yeah, serious… _Avon_ business. I've got to get over to your parents' house."

"Perky, our friends are in danger. This is no time for Avon!"

Perky takes my face in her hands. "I want you to trust me, Adorable. Out future depends on… Avon. Let me go do this - for you, for us."

"I had no idea that Avon would mean so much to you."

She strokes my face and brushes her soft lips over mine. She slowly blinks her beautiful, mud-colored eyes. "Never doubt how much, Adorable. Okay?"

"Okay," I breathe. I don't have a clue what she's talking about. I don't doubt her for a second. Doubt and Perky don't live in the same part of my brain, or my pants. Perky notices the pants part of things too and shimmies and teases before she lets me go.

"Tomorrow, Mr. Ed," she says with a smile and a nod to the talking horse. "Listen to the wire for me while I'm gone?" she asks when her focus is back on my face.

"Already done, Perky," I say as I flip the switch on the monitor.

Sparkle's staticky voice fills the room.

"_This is so much fun!"_

"_This isn't fun, Sparkle. It's serious business."_

"_I'll tell you what's serious, Pixie," Sparkle giggles. "The hard-on that little mobster was sporting for you."_

"_Sparkle!"_

Crackle's face is as red as a beet.

Perky laughs. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Adorable. Keep an ear out for our hookers, okay?" she asks as she grabs her car keys from the coffee table.

"_And all of those trips to the bathroom, Pixie? Does the guy have an infection, or is something else going on I should know about?"_

"I'll keep an ear out, all right. This shit is priceless," I chuckle. "Thank god it's being recorded for the Feds."

Crackle struggles with his cuffs, but he's not going anywhere.

"Okay, Adorable. I'll be back soon." But Perky leaves me with a kiss that seems like she might be gone for a little longer than that. I try not to think about it, though. Her business meeting gives me some more time to work on that proof she asked for.

"_It doesn't look infected,"_ Pixie says on the monitor.

They're still talking about Crackle's junk, so I dash to the back patio for my guitar. I only have a few more hours to get it right.


	45. Big Daddy C

**BPOV**

Carmine Cullenieri has blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and the only thing I can think is that he must be from northern Italy. Then he looks at me and smiles. He has a creepy, bone-chilling smile. I've seen my share of them – those smiles where there's no real happiness, where their eyes stare blankly and their teeth are set on edge. Carmine Cullenieri's smile is at the top of my creepy smile list.

And that creepy, calculating smile of his makes me angry. I was already pretty pissed to begin with.

I march across the office and stand in front of Carmine's desk.

He doesn't stand. I don't sit.

His smile gets wider. I stare him the fuck down.

He thinks he can fuck with _my_ Adorable? With his own _son_? I fold my arms across my chest. Perky's here, bitch, no more games.

"Hello, Isabella," Carmine purrs.

"That's _not_ my name, Daddy C," I growl.

He purses his lips and looks me over from head to toe. I went with one of my genuine Perky outfits today; no call girl shit. I just wore my favorite pare of skinny jeans, a tank and my leather jacket.

"Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Isabella."

"That. Is. Not. My. Name!"

Carmine tents his hands on the desktop. "I like Isabella. You made a pretty penny for this organization under that name."

"Believe me, it was unintentional. I was just looking out for myself."

"Yes, Laurent mentioned your… _motivation_ in passing from time to time. Pity he's not still around to take advantage of that fire to fuck."

I don't flinch. Men have said worse over the years.

"Yeah, your fault, there, huh, Daddy C? You kind of ended Laurent's life."

Carmine shakes his head. "I believe that was my son's idea."

"I don't think so."

"Excuse me for saying this, Isabella, but you've used your twat to fuck with my son _and_ with this organization. My son was willing to kill, then he wasn't, he wanted in, then he wanted out, and all I can think is that he doesn't know what he fucking wants because he's ramming his dick in and out of you all fucking day."

I lean my hands on Carmine's desk. I ignore the phone buzzing in my pocket. "Don't talk to me like that you motherfucker."

Carmine stands slowly to his feet. He towers over me. He's skinny but still somehow intimidating. I try not to let him see how small he makes me feel.

"No one speaks to me like that, Isabella," he hisses.

I can't help but smile a little. "_I _do. And I'll tell you what else I'm going to do. I'm going to make sure Adorable's out for good. He doesn't want any part of this dirty business of yours."

"He just wants part of a dirty whore?"

I hold myself back from jumping across the desk. My phone buzzes again. I ignore it again.

"This isn't about dirty whores, Cullenieri. This is about your son. He wants out. What does it matter whether we're together or not?"

"I know first hand what women can do to a man, Isabella. They dazzle you with their smooth little cunts and their sparkling lotions from Avon, and then they leave you without a will of your own. My son is no use to me as long as he's with you. When he's over this infatuation, then we'll put him back to work. My son and I had a deal. I expect him to live up to his end of the bargain."

"But he did it all for me. He was misguided. He was -"

"Blinded by your sparkling cunt?"

"You've got the wrong call girl, Cullenieri." Seriously, someone must have mixed me and Sparkle up in a hooker report or something. "You don't know a thing about my cunt."

"Enough, _Isabella_."

I decide to show Carmine Cullenieri just what enough looks like.

"That," I say.

I take a step.

"Is."

I take another step in Carmine's direction.

"Not."

One more. I'm right in front of him.

"My."

I slide Crackle's gun out of my pocket.

"Name."

They should have given more credit to the call girl and padded me down. I give him Carmine credit, though. He doesn't bat an eye.

"You wouldn't," he says.

"I would."

"You'd kill for my son?"

"I'd do just about anything for your son."

"Then kill the bad guy, Isa-, I mean, Belinda," he says in a very calm, very even voice. "Kill Aro: you know, the man you won't _let_ Edward gun down, the man that's wanted him dead for the past twenty-two years."

"We've got Aro covered. He's going down without bullets."

My phone buzzes again. It's driving me mad. But I can't really check my messages or anything seeing as how I've got a gun pointed at Carmine Cullenieri's head.

"The only place Aro's going is downtown to watch my son's little rock and roll band," Carmine says as he stares coolly down the barrel of Crackle's gun. "He's walking right into the trap that you and my wife managed to ruin."

"Aro Volturi will never make it to the show," I reply

"He's already on his way."

"It wasn't supposed to start for at least another hour."

"Perhaps he wants a good seat."

"You're lying."

"Don't kill me and I'll prove it to you, Belinda."

"How?"

"Let me call in my man. They have a trace on Volturi."

"Don't ask your man to kill me," I warn.

"My wife would have my head. As long as my son wants you in bed and my wife wants you for cosmetics sales, you're safe."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I aim the gun at the office door instead of Adorable's dad. My phone buzzes again. For the first time I consider that Cullenieri might be telling me the truth. If Aro's not at his place, if he left early for The Trash Men, what about Pixie and Sparkle? Shit. Double shit sprinkled with loads of stinky trash.

Cullenieri presses a button on his desk. "Sir?" comes a crackly voice from over an intercom.

"Bring me the latest pictures of Volturi from our tail. Oh, and the live GPS feed as well."

Not thirty seconds later a burly guy that I think I've seen before swaggers into the office. He holds up a small screen with an electronic map of downtown. The glowing blue circle making its way slowly down Main means nothing to me. But the pictures he flashes after that make my heart skip a beat.

Picture one: Aro getting into a Town Car with one fake and one former hooker.

Picture two: Aro in the backseat of the Town Car with his arms around one fake and one former hooker.

Picture three: A sign held up over the back window of the Town Car reading, 'Come and get me'.

"Shit!"

"A problem, Belinda?"

"I've got to go!"

"To track a mobster, perhaps?"

I'm halfway out the door before I see a solution to everyone's problems. Well, everyone's but my own. "What if I'm the one to kill Aro Volturi?" I ask.

"What if you are?"

"Will it get Adorable out?"

"Hmm…"

"I don't have time for this, Cullenieri! If I take care of your competition, I want Adorable out. For good. Forever. Whether he's with me or not."

Cullenieri's smile grows. He has me. He knows it. But I have no choice. My sister's life is on the line. Something's gone terribly wrong.

"You have my word, Isabella. My word is a very permanent thing. If you kill Aro, I'll consider my son's debt paid. Adorable, as you call him, will be out. For good. You on the other hand -"

But I don't stick around to hear my fate. I've heard all that I need to. I've got to save Adorable's sweet ass and I've got to save Pixie and Sparkle now, too.

* * *

**A/N: Next update: Sometime tomorrow. xxx, M**


	46. Eureka

**EPOV**

"Why the hell won't she answer her phone?" Something's gone very wrong. Pixie and Sparkle showed their pasties and suddenly our carefully constructed plan flew out the window.

"Get this harness off me, Edward."

I ignore Crackle and try Perky again. It goes to voicemail.

"Un-cuff me!" he shouts, struggling.

"I don't have the time to help you piss right now, Crackle!"

I try her again. Voicemail again. "Shit!" I throw the phone against the wall and it falls on the floor in pieces. "Fuck," I mutter, kicking at the scraps, raking my hands through my hair.

Aro's voice hisses through the monitor.

"_Do you ladies like The Trash Men?"_

"_Oh my god, trash men are so hot. Aren't they, Pixie?"_

"_Well, umm…" _Pixie hedges.

"_Come on, Pixie. You know you love that trash guy."_

"_I hear they're very good." _Pixie admits.

"_Very good… in bed,"_ Sparkle adds with a giggle. _"Ouch... Pixie!"_

"_You like it rough, little one?"_ Aro asks Perky's sister. "_Well, I like to accommodate."_

"Un-cuff me right now, Edward, or I swear to god I'll piss all over you the first chance I get."

"I've gotta go, Crackle." I throw things around, rooting through the mess on the coffee table to find the keys to the limo.

"Not without me, you don't!"

"I've got to save Perky's sister, Crackle. I can't have you gunning for her too."

I find the keys, sticky and gross and covered with black bean sauce and dash across the room.

"Let me help you, please!" Crackle shouts as I throw open the front door. Something in his voice makes me stop.

"How am I supposed to trust you?" I ask.

"Dude, Edward, I can't let anything happen to that chick. I can't lose those… little hands, that pretty smile, those big brown -"

"Muddy eyes," we say together.

The eyes get me - Perky and Pixie's matching eyes. I know that I could use all the help I can get, and I _want _to trust my fellow trash man. Up until all this crap with my father he was like an older, up-tight brother, sort of.

"Please?" he begs. "The way it makes me feel when she touches…" his head drops and he gazes at his junk. "Please."

"Jesus Christ, Crackle." I give in and I hope to god I'm making the right decision. Crackle winces as I unlock his cuffs and we both run for the limo without even bothering to unfasten the harness.

"What do you think went wrong?" I ask. I open the passenger door for Crackle and kind of toss him inside.

"It all changed when he got a look at their pasties," Crackle confirms. "And it really pisses me off that he got a look at their pasties, by the way."

"They went undercover as hookers. What did you expect?"

Crackle shakes his head and grits his teeth. "_I _haven't even seen those tits, man. We're got to get Pixie out of this, and then I'm gonna to make sure she never goes undercover as a hooker again."

"I don't know. She seemed comfortable with that whip," I offer.

"Flogger," Crackle corrects me. "And I didn't say anything about role play."

With that unfortunate image sadly burned in my brain, I concentrate on the road. I push the limo as fast as she'll go and wish to hell I knew how to drive like Perky. I also wish to hell I knew why she didn't answer her phone. I really wish to hell that I hadn't broken mine.

"Call my mom, Crackle," I command.

"What?" he asks, struggling with his restraints.

"My mom. Perky had a meeting with my mom."

"I've been tied up in Perky's living room for days, Edward. You think I had the time to charge my cell?"

"Shit," I swear again.

Just when I was so close to finding out the answer to Perky's question, this had to happen.

_What happens after everything's okay?_

The first thing that was going to happen was my stab at that proof Perky was asking about. But now it looks like that plan's shot to shit. The next thing on the agenda was twenty-four hours of experimental sex with the woman of my dreams. Also probably not going to happen now. And then, after that… that was what I was really looking forward to. Everything after that. Everything. Life. My life, with Perky.

_My life with Perky._

"Holy shit!"

"What?" Crackle asks.

"I know the answer. I fucking know the answer!"

Just when it's too late, I figure out the answer. Why am I such an idiot?

"The answer?" Crackle asks.

"The answer's yes. The answer's life. The answer is that I want her, like, forever. I wasn't going anywhere after everything was okay. I want her and me... together. The proof is, I don' know: my words, my hands, and my heart. Shit! She wanted to know my intentions. Fuck. We are _so_ making everything okay. You hear me, Crackle?"

"I hear you, but you're not making much sense, man."

"We need a plan, Crackle. Think! Quick!"

"Well, Aro's going to the show," Crackle says.

"But it's too early and there is no show. The Feds were supposed to get him before he ever left."

Crackle nods his head and gazes out the window. "This is my fault, isn't it? If I hadn't of tried to kill her..."

"Dude, it's totally my fault," I reply. "I'm the one that screwed up when I tried to get Perky out. And now she's going to show up at home, with the both of us gone, with the monitor on. Shit!" I pound the steering wheel. "Shit, shit, shit!"

I drive and my mind swims. I think about all the things Perky and I could have done after everything was okay. It's all the answer to her question. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable because the gun in the waistband of my jeans is digging into my back.

"We forgot your gun," I say to Crackle. "Another stupid move."

"No, Perky took it this morning."

"Perky?"

"Yeah."

"Weird."

"Yep."

"So what the hell are we doing, Crackle?" I ask, exasperated.

"I think we pretend like we're there for the show. That way, we don't give anything away. It's just like the original plan, minus the bass player. But no one thinks about bass players, really."

"The original plan, huh?"

"We can't let anyone die for our own stupidity, can we?" Crackle asks.

No, we couldn't let anyone die. Then it would never be okay. It would be the opposite of okay; it would be very un-okay.

"But if I kill Aro, Crackle, you know what that means. I'd be a murderer for the mob. That's not what Perky wanted."

Again: _very_ un-okay.

"There's still one way out, man," Jasper says. "And since Pixie's with the Feds -"

"She's not with the Feds!"

"Keep tellin' yourself that, man. But there's a way."

That's when I remember Pixie's offer. "Inform on dad and live out my life in Glendale, Arizona," I recite from memory.

"I'm just sayin' Adorable."

"You're telling me to inform on the Cullenieri Crime Syndicate? You're my dad's biggest cheerleader."

"Well, I was, until I fell for a Federal agent."

"A private investigator," I counter.

Crackle just shakes his head.

"So, our plan is to show up like we're there for the show?" I ask. "And if it looks like Pixie and Sparkle are in danger I take Aro out, and then I turn my dad over to the Feds?"

"Sounds about right," Jasper says with a nod.

"Sounds like a stupid plan," I counter.

"Do you have a better one?" he asks me.

I don't.

It's settled.

Because I'm looking forward to what happens after it's okay.

That means I've got to make okay happen.

Immediately.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to the ladies at The Perv Pack Smut Shack for rec'ing this little fic. **

**Thanks to the ladies on facebook for keeping me sane.**

**Thanks to the fandom for keeping me endlessly amused and chronically behind at work.**

**Next update will happen tomorrow, the latest. Tonight, the soonest.**

**Enjoy! M**


	47. Hookers With Handguns

**BPOV**

The mob scene outside the Paramount has me speechless. No, it's not _that_ kind of mob scene. It's the kind of mob scene that Adorable deserves. Hordes of women are pushing and shoving and jostling to get into the club. They're wearing their Trash Fan T-shirts. They're anxious and flushed.

The thing is, I'm pretty sure most of them have no idea just how right on they are. Adorable _is_ worth all of that and more. He's just so… _good_, through and through, and he's so sweet and sexy and willing. And don't even get me started about the talented Mr. Ed, or how it can make a girl feel when those strong arms are wrapped around so tight. And one day, one day he can have a normal, sweet and sexy girl to match. Maybe he can have one of these… _bitches_.

Sorry. I may be letting him go, but I don't have to be nice about it.

Even though the Trash Fans' excitement is very right, this scene is still all wrong. It's too early in the evening and the show's not even happening. Not to mention that there are trash trucks lining both sides of the road leading up to the Paramount. I don't remember The Trash Men having actual trash man fans at their last show. No, this isn't good. At all.

I park my car and make my way to the entrance. Women scowl as I stride past towards the front of the queue. I'm used to it. My job used to be to look as beautiful as possible, and to fuck as well as possible, and to make my clients feel as satisfied as possible; and I did my job well. It has a way of making amateurs uneasy. I didn't lose the technique just because dropped out of the pro-league. If these women only knew what I was doing with their rock star trash man this morning, they'd do more than curl their lips at me.

When I see the bouncer, I smile and stand a little taller.

"Isabella!" Seth calls. First he waves me over, then he looks me over. He manages to get an eyeful without coming off as sleazy. I've always liked Seth. "You have a trashy kind of date tonight?" he asks, laughing at his own awful joke.

"Not exactly, Seth. What's going on there? I thought the show was later, or cancelled, or both."

"Band got here a little while ago and said they were either going on early or not at all. Threw us completely, you know? So we Tweeted about it to get people here and the shit went viral. Now look."

"The band's _here_?" I ask.

"How else would they go on early?" Seth laughs, shaking his head. "And that sparkly friend of yours is here too, by the way."

"Rose?"

"I don't know her name, Isabella, just that's she's a… _you know_, and she's always glittering. Not as much tonight. I mean, she looked really good tonight. Rumor is she's dating -"

"Seth, please, can you get me in? I _need_ to get in there." I beg.

"You look sick, Isabella."

I feel sick.

"I'm desperate. Really, really, desperate."

I clutch Seth's bicep, I touch Seth's chest, I brush Seth's knee with mine, I watch the big man sigh and salivate.

He dips his head so that I can feel his warm breath on my face, and his eyelids sink to half-mast. "Say no more," he rasps in a low, rumbly voice. Seth opens the door and ushers me through to a chorus of boo's and hisses.

What can I say? I used to be very good at my job.

"Have fun in there, Isabella," Seth says with a hopeful wink.

I seriously doubt that fun is a possibility.

xXxXx

The place is packed. Women chant and clap.

_Trash, trash, trash, trash… trash, trash, trash, trash_

The stage is dim. The air is charged. Somewhere in this mess of breasts and beer there's my sister and my friend with the biggest mobster this side of the Mississippi. And he wants someone to come get him.

And my man's here. Backstage, probably. I'm pretty sure I can guess his intentions. He planned on killing Aro once before, and now he probably knows that something went wrong with the plan. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. It just takes a woman who knows her trash man very, very well.

I can't let him do it.

I won't.

I push my way through the crowd, scanning faces, surveying bodies. I wish I'd let Sparkle wear more sparkles. I wish Pixie were taller.

I check the gun in the waistband of my jeans, so grateful that dad made Pixie and I both learn to shoot when we were kids. He's a lawman, and he believes fervently in the second amendment. To this day, it's the only amendment I know.

The lights around me dim. _Damn it!_

The crowd cheers.

My man walks out onto the stage. My heart flutters and my skin tingles. He scans the crush of screaming women.

I surge ahead. I push through, past breasts and hips and shoulders of all shapes and sizes. I'm not sure what I'm doing: looking for my sister or making my way to Adorable. I'm moving. Simply moving.

"I'm, uh, surprised to see you all here," Adorable says. He holds a hand over his eyes and peers into the crowd.

"_He's so fucking hot."_

"_I love you, Trash Man!"_

"We, uh, weren't expecting all this." Adorable glances over his shoulder at a rumpled-looking Crackle, still half in a harness.

That's when I see them. That's when I see the mobster from the pictures with Pixie on one side and Sparkle on the other. It looks like he's crushing their arms in a vice-like grip. That's when I notice the other trash men; big solid guys are peppered through the crowd, very focused on their choice of entertainment for the evening.

That's when I raise my gun.

That's when the light from a disco ball glances off the barrel and hits Adorable in the eye as he turns back to the crowd. That's when he sees me.

"Perky! No!"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews!**

**Hi to all the new readers.**

**Next update: Tomorrow**

**Until then, xxx, M**


	48. Raining Blood

**EPOV**

In the blink of an eye and the flash of a gun I see everything: Perky, Aro, Pixie and Sparkle. And a gun. Did I mention the gun? It's in Perky's hands, aimed at Aro Volturi's head.

"Perky! No!"

And just as quickly, in another blink, some big trash man that I've never seen before lunges and knocks Perky down.

A gun discharges.

Women scream.

"No!" I shout again, jumping down from the stage.

I pull out my gun and Trash Fans run for the exit. The Trash men don't run anywhere. Somehow, even amidst the high-heeled stampede, I can hear the clicks of guns cocking.

Trash men are pointing guns at one another. I don't get it. I'm totally lost. But I can hardly care because Perky's wrestling with that goddamned trash man on the floor. So I ignore the three or four guns pointed at me and rush past Aro, Pixie and Sparkle to help my girl out. I'm about to pistol whip Perky's attacker, when I hear her muffled voice.

"Goddamn it, dad, let me up!"

Dad?

Now I really want to hit the asshole.

He called Perky a whore back when she was just a kid. He let her run away. He took away her confidence when she needed it the most. He… is an F.B.I. agent.

"Dad?" I ask out loud.

"Put the gun away, baby."

"You don't get to call me baby," Perky growls at her father.

"Belinda Swanson, put away the gun, now!"

"I think maybe we should try just talking this out," I hear Crackle say to the armed trash men from somewhere behind me. The garbage guys laugh heartily.

"You know, like in The Merchant of Venice," Crackle continues.

"What the fuck?" someone asks.

"I don't know, man. Let's just off this little BDSM trash man and get this over with."

"No!" Pixie shouts. And that's when things go kind of crazy. Yeah, I know, things were already all kinds of crazy. But, this is when the guns go off.

Gunfire is really loud.

Blood is really good at splattering.

But all I care about is Perky, pinned beneath her dad.

I'm on the floor, next to her in a heartbeat.

"Adorable," she gasps, reaching for my hand.

"Perky."

"What the hell were you doing up there?" she asks, nodding towards the stage.

"Saving your sister, Perky. What the hell were _you_ doing?"

"I was saving you, Adorable. Saving you."

"I'll tell the both of you what you were doing," Perky 's dad angrily cuts in. "Playing around with guns and the mob, you two were being -"

"Shut the fuck up, dad," Perky says, pushing him away, rolling onto her side, wrapping her arms around my neck. Little red drops of blood rain down on us, bullets whiz over our heads. "You're an idiot, Adorable, but thanks for trying to save Pixie."

"Promise never to try to kill for me again, Perky. Promise. I mean, if you did something like that then we'd never get to the good part. You know, after everything's okay."

"After everything's okay?" she asks. Blood splashes on her cheek.

_What happens after everything's okay?_ It might be raining blood and bullets, but it's time to answer Perky's question.

"This, Perky, this is just the beginning. After this, that's what I'm living for. Me and you, for as long as possible. That's what happens: me and you. Anything else, well, fuck it, I don't care."

"But… _me_?"

"I love you. All of you. Every name. Every part. You made me step up to the plate. You made me step up to my father, to the mob, you made me fight and feel and just fuck and -"

I don't get to finish, because Perky's lips crash against mine, her hands knot in my hair, holding me fiercely as pats of blood patter around us, as guns explode, as dirty work boots slam against the sticky floor and large men fall.

"Me and you," I mumble. "That's all that matters. I'll do anything."

And I roll on top of her, you know, just to keep her safe from the bullets flying over our heads.

* * *

**A/N: We're getting close to the end. Who gets hurt? Where'd Charlie come from? Where's Pop? What the hell's going on?**

**Answers on Monday. Yep, Monday.**

**Sorry! Just want to wrap this up right.**

**How many more chapters? Three, probably. And an epilogue.**

**Love the reviews! Love the love. Until Monday, xxx, M**


	49. Two CrossArmed Swansons

**BPOV**

I seem to learn new things about myself with every minute I spend in Adorable's presence. For instance: it turns out that I find blood and guns extremely sexy. Who would have thought? I didn't know I swung that way. Maybe, just maybe it has something to do with the fact that Adorable's pinning me to the concrete with a head full of messy, bronze, blood-splattered hair while shell casings fall to the ground around us. They clink and clank in off-kilter tempo with the uneven pitter-pat of my heart.

Thud, right? You have no idea.

My man's large hands are on either side of my head. I love that his finger pads are so rough. I love that his eyes are such a pretty shade of gray-green. I love that he's so hard for me in the middle of all of this. I love him so much that it hurts; so much that I almost forget about…

I'll tell you what's not sexy: dads. Especially estranged dads that show up out of nowhere and shake their head in disappointment at you for making out with your boyfriend on the floor of a club while all hell is breaking loose.

His disapproval ruins the moment and snaps me out of it.

"Adorable?" I sigh.

"Yeah, Perky?" my man rasps in a way that makes my body shiver. I decide on the spot that my dad can wait another few seconds.

"I love you, Adorable."

Adorable smiles that crooked, Bell's palsy smile of his and my heart beats so hard in response that I'm afraid it might knock him off of me.

"I love you, too," he says. Hearing those words from his lips is priceless, but his eyes are what really get me. They show it all, I know it without a doubt: our feelings match. I wrap my arms around Adorable as the last gunshots ring out and the sound of my dad's toe tapping grows to fill the club.

"It sounds like they've stopped shooting." I observe with a soft kiss.

Adorable glances around. His eyes go wide and his face goes pale.

"And if I don't get you off of me, Adorable, I think my dad's going to tap his way to China."

"Your father," Adorable growls and he shakes his head and his hands clench into fists. "If he didn't just stop you from killing Aro, I think I'd take a chance on China."

My heart swells.

"Oh my god, Adorable, I love you more, now."

Adorable kisses me once more, a soft, lingering kiss - the kind of kiss I didn't know existed until I practiced at it with him. It's the kind of kiss that comes with love. Then he stands and pulls me to my feet. He holds me close, and it's a good thing that he does, because I'm not prepared for the scene around me. The floor's littered with fallen mobster trash men and dark red puddles and splashes. I spot Pixie on the stage, bent in two and covered in blood.

"Oh my god," I breathe and my knees buckle.

"Belinda, I need a few words with -" I feel my dad's hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off and run for my sister, dodging piles of injured trash men as I go. It's just like my dad to try to scold me when his older daughter might be… _god_, I can't even think it.

"Pixie!" I shout as I run. "Alice! Sis!"

"He's okay, Bell." Alice sobs. Her words take my breath away and stop me in my tracks. She sits up and I'm so glad she's alive that I start to cry.

"Pixie, I thought -"

"Your harness saved him, Bell," she sniffles.

Alice moves a little so that I can see the bloody little mobster lying across her lap.

"Crackle?" I ask.

Pixie's used some rope to make a tourniquet for Crackle's leg. She's applying pressure to his inner thigh. He's pale, but very obviously pleased. His hand rests over hers.

"The harness," Pixie says, her eyes back on the small trash man in her lap. Her free hand flits over his bondage gear. "The bullets just hit the metal parts. This thing saved his life."

"You cared about my life?" Crackle asks in a whisper. I watch his fingers weakly clutch at hers.

"Of course I did… I mean, I do," my sister coos as she goes in for a kiss. Crackle winces in pleasure and pain. Pixie torques the tourniquet tighter. I look away.

Adorable grabs my hand and I turn to see my man's relieved smile and my father making his way over to us. Agent Charlie Swanson's aged: his course brown hair is peppered with gray and his face is etched with lines, but he's still sporting his signature 'stache and his disapproving look.

He has the good grace to ignore me this time around.

"We haven't officially met," my father says, holding his hand out to Adorable.

"I'm Belinda's trash man," Adorable replies. I think he tries to hurt my dad with his handshake, and my dad's up for the fight. They have a handshake-off. My dad keeps his game face on, but I'm pretty sure Adorable wins the match-up. I smile through my tears and clutch my man tighter. His strong grip gives me the strength I need to address my father.

"What in the hell are you doing here, daddy?" I ask. I notice that my dad's wearing dark gray-green trash man overalls. The color is strikingly similar to Adorable's eyes. I can't help thinking about how fuckable Adorable would look in a pair of those. My body tingles as I imagine myself unzipping them to find him naked and ready underneath.

"Saving your ass, Belinda," my father replies, snapping me out of my ill-timed fantasy.

"I don't need saving, daddy," I hiss.

"You've always thought you could do things on your own, Belinda, but it's never been the case."

"Excuse me, sir," Adorable cuts in. "But I don't think you're in a position to say anything about Belinda's life. She's been doing really well for herself, no thanks to you."

"She's been doing really well, huh, trash man?" my dad asks. "You mean that she's a really good -"

"Whore," I say, completing my father's sentence and getting up in his face. "I _was_ a _very_ successful whore, daddy."

"Shh," my dad says. His face is screwed up in pain like I just junk punched him.

"Sorry, but I don't think this is the time or the place to talk about what a good call girl I was, dad. I think it's about time you told me exactly what happened here just now. How in the hell did you end up at The Paramount getting in the way of our plan?"

My father's face is still contorted in anger and pain as he glances at Pixie. My sister studiously avoids my eyes. Men and women in suits, and in uniforms, and with stretchers begin pouring into the mostly empty club. Sirens wail outside.

"I'm waiting," I growl. I begin tapping my toe on the concrete. Adorable looks between my dad and me: two toe-tapping, cross-armed Swansons staring one another down. I know what he's thinking, but I am _nothing_ like my father.

"Would someone help me, please?" Sparkle's muffled voice comes from somewhere behind my dad. I completely forgot about her in all the chaos. I shake off Adorable, push past my father and scan the crowd.

"Sparkle?" I call.

"Perky, over here!" she cries.

I rush toward Sparkle's voice, but I can't find her anywhere. Instead, it leads me to Aro Volturi, who's lying in a heap and bleeding from his shoulder and his side.

"Perky! Please!"

"Sparkle?" I ask, taking a tentative step in Aro's direction. It's like the gunfire somehow crossed the two of them.

"Come on, Perky! I'm, like, suffocating."

That's when I see something glittery coming from the direction of Aro's ass.

"Help me get this guy up, Perky," Aro's ass requests. "He weighs about a million pounds."

I finally get it. "Oh my god!" I drop to my knees and push and shove, but Aro does seem to weigh about a million pounds, give or take a couple thousand. "Adorable, help!" I call. I hope I can get the injured mob boss off of my friend in time.

I get the help of not only Adorable, but also a few uniformed officers that are eager to pull Aro onto a stretcher and put him in cuffs. Sparkle looks dazed and bruised and flattened and somewhat bloody, but only a little worse for the wear.

"He threw himself on top of me when the guns started going off," Sparkle explains as she rights her dress and rearranges her hair.

"He's always had a thing for glitter," my dad offers, shaking his head at the fallen gangster.

I desperately try to make heads or tails of the situation, but too much has happened. I'm overwhelmed: by the blood, by the piles of trash men, by Adorable's loving proximity and by my dad's presence. I'm thrown because Alice is making out with a bleeding trash man in a harness on a stage. I laugh because just a minute ago I thought Aro's ass was talking to me with Sparkle's voice.

I try to focus. This can't all be bad. There are cuffs on Aro Volturi's wrists, and Adorable didn't kill anyone. Neither did I. Maybe there's a chance for the two of us, after all.

"Is he going away for good?" I ask my dad, nodding towards Aro as he's toted away on the stretcher.

"He'll be taken in for questioning, just like the whole lot of you will. But we've got nothing on him, Belinda."

"Dude, this is so _not _how the plan was supposed to go down!" A voice booms from the back of the club.

We all abruptly turn to see Pop's big frame filling the entrance.

"And I didn't even have the chance to save Sparkle's sweet ass. That's so not cool."

Sparkle limps into the arms of her trash man, and Pop makes a show of saving her ass, just to make things right. That's when it clicks. I quickly make my way to Pop and Sparkle.

"Did you get it, Pop?" I ask breathlessly.

"Get what?" he asks with a shrug of his shoulders.

I roll my eyes in exasperation. "Whatever Pixie told you to get."

"Dude, that and more. You're not going to believe this shit."

* * *

**A/N: More in the way of an explanation coming with the next update.**

**The next update is coming tomorrow.**

**One update daily this week until Rubbish is through.**

**Definitely by Friday. Maybe sooner.**

**Here's to hoping ff . net lets me make that happen.**

**Thanks so much for all of your reviews, and alerts and favorites and PM's ... xxx, M**


	50. Sparkly Crime

**EPOV**

It's hard to give a shit about Pop when I'm itching to deck Perky's dad. Listening to him call his own daughter a whore in front of all of those people... Sure, I mean, I know she was a call girl up until just a few days ago, but she's so much more than that, and he doesn't even know because he pushed her away. Asshole.

Perky's cries of surprise distract me from her father, though. She's leafing through some papers and pictures Pop just pulled out of a secret Navy Seal pocket somewhere.

"I know Pixie said he was into sparkles, but this…" Perky's voice trails off lost in wonder and she glances at me and shakes her head like she can't believe what she's looking at. That says a lot considering she's just seen a shoot out between a bunch of trash men and the F.B.I.

A few undercover trash man-Feds start swarming around Pop, Sparkle and Perky. They leaf through the papers Pop's produced, murmuring in surprise, slapping each other on the back and giving high fives.

"We fucking found him, Charlie," one of the agents yells out to Perky's dad.

"Adorable, you've got to see this!" Perky calls, waving me over.

At this point, there's quite a crowd. Pixie's even propped Crackle up so that he can limp over for a look.

"Look at all of this sparkly shit," one of the Feds murmurs in disdain before spitting on the ground. "Kinky outlaws like this make my skin crawl."

Pixie pulls a piece of paper from Pop's hand. "He harvests blood diamonds in Africa!" she exclaims. "That amoral animal."

Pop notices me and passes a photo my way with a wink and a nod. It's a picture of a skinny lady with enormous tits wearing an ugly, sparkling bra.

"Aro stole an underwear model?" I ask.

One of the Feds looks over my shoulder and whistles under his breath. "Not the model, man; just the bra. That's the Victoria Secret three million dollar Damiani bra. It was lifted from the runway show last year and hasn't been seen since."

"Yeah, well, I saw it," Pop says with a proud smile. "And it comes with a matching G-string. But, really, who needs a jeweled G-string when your girl's been vagazzled, right?"

Sparkle giggles, Pop's hand disappears under her skirt and I cough and avert my eyes.

"It looks like he's been manipulating the rhinestone futures market as well," Perky's dad murmurs as he leafs through paperwork that Pop's passed to him. "He's an insider trader in the world of glitter. This administration really hasn't done anything to clean up corruption in the financial markets," he grumbles.

Sparkle, Pixie and Perky can hardly be bothered with news of insider trading, though. They're all suddenly, completely engrossed in a huge stack of pictures Pop just pulled out of another secret pocket. Their eyes are wide; they're holding their breath with hands held over their mouths.

"Holy Mary, mother of god," Pixie mumbles.

"Fuck me now," Sparkle murmurs.

"Later," Pop laughs. "What about you, Perky? You like 'em?"

"Like them?" Perky asks, blushing. "Well, um…" she glances in my direction. "I like them a lot." She swallows and looks back at the photo in her hand. "Holy hell," she mumbles, biting her lip. "Aro did this. I know it's wrong, but I kind of want to thank him all at the same time."

"Thank him?" Pixie asks. "This kind of theft is unconscionable, Perky! This is unforgivable!"

"But you can't look away, can you?" Perky asks with a nervous laugh.

"We've hit the mother load, gentlemen!" an agent calls out when he manages to get his hands on one of the pictures. Charlie and I crowd around the guy hoping for a look.

"We fucking did it," Charlie whispers in awe.

"Did what?" I ask. I'm staring at a blurry picture of some soft-core porn sex scene. "I don't see sparkles anywhere," I comment. I turn it over looking for a clue.

"Aro must have cracked into their computer system before they added the CGI effects," Pixie explains. "I bet that really bummed him out." Pixie looks the opposite of bummed out, though. She's flushed and bright-eyed, and the way she glances at Pop makes me think she wants to take him out back for a quickie.

"What kind of porn uses CGI?" I ask. "Is this some weird alien shit?"

It doesn't look like aliens, though. It just looks like some uncomfortable version of missionary, like he's doing the butterfly stroke in bed. I'm pretty sure this position wouldn't even rate a number, or a letter.

"It's not 'alien shit', Adorable," Perky purrs. She runs her hands over my biceps, then up across my shoulders as she gazes at the screen shot in my hands. Her knee nudges its way between my thighs. "Vampire shit. _Sparkly_ vampire shit. The temptation must have been too much for a sparkle-whore like Aro."

"You didn't hear about this?" Pop asks. "This movie studio's going apeshit looking for the guy that hacked into their system and stole this movie. Aro's going down, man. They're going to nail his ass to the wall."

"This is how vampires are supposed to have sex?" I ask, completely underwhelmed. "I thought they'd bite or something."

"Don't you know about this at all, Adorable?" Perky asks. "He _can't _bite her."

"Boooring," I mutter.

"Agreed," she coos, moving her knee higher, getting really close to… _hello_… Mr. Ed. Her teeth lightly nip at my shoulder. I close my eyes and hiss. I can't help it. And I don't really get it, but if these pictures make Perky react like this, hell, we can plaster them all over the bedroom walls for all I care.

"How about later we give this a try?" Perky rasps. "We can add in a bite or two, if you want."

Charlie coughs. Pixie giggles and tugs on Crackle's harness. Pop and Sparkle are suddenly making out. Perky grumbles and gives her dad a nasty look, but moves her knee away from the horse just the same.

"I still don't know how you and your men got here, dad," she says.

"In our trash trucks," Charlie says with a chuckle as he begins to put the papers pop found in some kind of order.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"You were involved with the mob, Belinda. This is my job."

"That still doesn't explain -"

"Doesn't anyone listen to me?" Crackle asks, interrupting Perky. "Pixie's with the Feds. I've been trying to tell you all along. "We're all going down because of this shit."

"Pixie?" Perky asks.

Her sister looks at the ground and wrings her hands.

* * *

**A/N: Mystery solved.**

**Call off the P.I.'s.**

**Next update tomorrow, fanfiction . net willing...**

**Thank you for the reviews! xxx, M**


	51. Decisions, Decisions

**BPOV**

"You didn't!"

Just when I trusted her.

"Tell me you didn't, Pixie!"

Just when I thought she really cared about me.

"Pixie! Say something!" I demand.

Pixie looks up at me with big brown eyes filled with tears. "I didn't think…" She looks between Adorable and I. "I didn't know."

"What?" I ask. "What didn't you know?"

"How good Adorable is. I thought he was just a really bad mobster. I didn't know that you guys, or this guy…" she sneaks a look at Crackle and finishes with a sob.

"He was definitely an awful mobster," Crackle chuckles as he wipes the tears from Pixie's face. "You got that right, sweetheart."

"Hey!" Adorable protests. "I'm really good with a gun."

I can't help but glance at Mr. Ed and silently agree. With just a little Googling, he figured out how to point and shoot with perfection.

"But you didn't have the stomach for it," Crackle adds, shaking his head. "Nessie still stinks like your vomit."

"Like you could smell it over the stench of trash," Adorable argues.

"Guys, I think everyone's missing the point," Pop interjects. "We're kind of surrounded by the Feds." Pop glances around and undercover trash men shrug and nod in agreement. "For whatever reason we've blown what we had in this town to bits. But let's try to save what we can, okay?"

I couldn't agree more with Pop's surprising logic. I know what I want to save. I want to save all of that fantastic nonsense Adorable was murmuring in my ear while bullets whizzed over my head. Now that everything's okay, and I want to save what happens afterwards, because for the first time ever, I'm beginning to believe in my own happily ever after.

It's not up to me, though, and I know it.

Adorable wraps his arm around my waist, but he's got his eyes on Crackle, not me. Crackle grabs for my sister's hand and she startles at his touch. Tears are still streaming down her face.

"Yeah?" Adorable asks.

Crackle nods his head and pulls Pixie in for a tender kiss. "Absolutely," he rasps as he runs his hands through her hair.

"Hell yeah!" Adorable cheers as he circles his other arm around me and picks me up off the ground. His green eyes shine and his crooked smile takes up a whole half of his face. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Perky. Now let's see what happens when we've got forever."

* * *

**A/N: Sounds like Adorable & Crackle have made a decision... This story will all wrap up with the next & final chapter... either later tonight or tomorrow at the latest.**

**This has been a wonderfully silly ride! Thanks to all of the ladies that have pimped Rubbish out, and tweeted, and facebooked, and blogged and have just generally kicked ass and made me smile. Thanks to Summit for giving me a way to make sure Aro would never see the light of day again.**

**Until the next update, xxx, M**


	52. Happily Ever After in Glendale, AZ

**EPOV**

I'm playing my guitar on the hammock in the shade of a palm tree. Due to the terms of the deal I struck with the Feds, I'm not singing about trash. I've given up garbage, and everything that comes along with it, for good. I did it with a sigh of relief, really. I mean, I have other songs to sing; songs I began making up months ago when I went searching for a way to let Perky know my heart.

I don't miss our silly songs about Trash. Well, maybe I miss that rush I got being up on stage. I loved that feeling. But I love Perky more.

It's totally worth it if I can live with Perky, a.k.a. Belle Ami (her new name), and not look over my shoulder all the time. It's worth it if I can finally live without being measured up to my father on a daily basis.

Perky says there's no comparison. She makes me smile.

She's right, though. Carmine Cullenieri's in prison and I'm in Glendale, Arizona, living out my life as Adam Masen. Perky voted for Adorable Masen as my new name, but come the fuck on, right? I mean, I only want Perky calling me Adorable. In bed.

And speaking of bed, Perky, Pixie and Sparkle were totally right on about the butterfly stroke. It really frees you up to, well, _thrust_… as long as you've got the upper body strength to support yourself like that – and I do. I've never been more thankful for the workout that trashcan slinging can give a man. You've got to trust me on this one, because the shit about the butterfly stroke doesn't come up if you Google it… yet. Perky and I submitted it to the Urban Dictionary. Our entry is under review by their editors. Hopefully they publish it, because I know there are other clueless guys out there looking for ways to make it work in the bedroom, just like I used to do.

I take a break and gaze across the backyard and through the kitchen window. I can see Perky and Pixie laughing as they get dinner ready.

Yep. Crackle and I both sung like, well, songbirds, I guess, and enrolled in the witness protection program. We turned in my father. I never thought I'd have the balls to do it, but the idea of a lifetime with Perky gave me the will. My dad set himself up, really. He made me work for him for three days, he gave me access to some pretty fucked up information. I told everything I knew to the Feds, and I hope I never have to speak about all of that filth ever again.

Pop and Sparkle wander into the backyard holding hands. They didn't have to, but they came along with us for the ride. Sparkle had nothing to lose, except her sparkles. She had to give them up for good in order not to bring attention to the six of us. Aro still has men out there hunting out sparkly shit for their incarcerated boss. Pop talks a little too much though, and I happen to know that there's one part of her that always glitters. Perky told me that Sparkle found a salon as soon as we all got here.

"I've been thinking, Edwa-, I mean Ador-, I mean, Adam," Pop says as he sits down in the grass by my feet. He never gets my new name right.

"Me too," I say with a smile. Personally, I've been thinking about a little seventy-two, followed by a butterfly stroke after dinner.

"We can't do anything with…" Pop glances around furtively. "Rubbish," he whispers.

"Rubbish?" I laugh. "Who says 'rubbish'?"

"My grandma said rubbish. Leave me alone!" Pop answers with a push to the hammock. I hang on tightly as it swings underneath me. "Anyway, I was thinking that here in Arizona it's always warm, always sunny, so you know what that means, right?"

"There's always sunburn?" Perky asks as she picks her way over the too-tall grass in her bare feet. She's wearing one of the silk robes I got for her that snaps up the front. I wanted to make sure that her body's just for me. So far, the robes have been about eighty-two percent effective. You know Perky, she doesn't think when it comes to that kind of stuff.

I can't help smiling as I pull her onto my lap. The hammock swings. My guitar falls to the ground.

"No, well, yeah, there is always sunburn, Perky, but that's not what I was thinking about," Pop replies. "I was thinking that the grass is always growing and that lawns always need taking care of. I mean, look at this lawn here. It's a mess. You guys need some good landscapers."

"Do you know any?" Perky asks as she rocks on my lap a little. I can tell that she's doing it on purpose by the demonic twinkle in her big brown eyes. I can't help it. I roll her over so that she's pinned underneath me on the hammock.

"You don't need a landscaper, baby. You've got me." I whisper in her ear as I rub Mr. Ed, just a little, because we've got company.

"I _do _have you, don't I?" she asks with a kiss. I nod and kiss her back. Mr. Ed's dying to get under that little robe. "And Pixie and Crackle, and Pop and Sparkle," she adds, reminding me that we have guests.

"Yeah," Sparkle says. "Who needs to pay landscapers when you've got three big, strong men around?"

"That's what I'm talking about, Edw-, I mean, Adam," Pop says, obviously flustered. "Landscapers, man – I think the three of us could do it. Why not?"

But I don't really care, because I've got my girl beneath me smiling up at me, I've got the sun shining behind me, and I've got my whole life ahead of me. Landscaping can come later.

~fin~

* * *

A/N:

Did I leave some holes in the story line? Probably. Sorry...

Did I leave this open for a Landscaperward sequel? Well, I guess I did. No guarantees, but please thank Allison Cullen if it happens.

Many thanks to FicFreak 95... This silly story wouldn't have been written without her.

Also, thanks to Rose Winters for saying 'rubbish' so much. She passed away during the writing of this story, so I guess I dedicate it to her…

And to everyone else, thanks for the laughs! Mwah!

xXxXx

I'll leave you guys with a teaser for my next fic: **There is a Light**, coming sometime in May, 2011…

I gently close her bedroom door. I tiptoe to my room and find the box at the back of my closet. I haven't opened it since long before my daughter was born. I sift through a dozen little notebooks filled with the twisted cursive handwriting I carefully constructed as a teenager. The books are full of poems and quotes and lyrics and drawings. A handmade card flutters to the floor and my breath catches in my throat.

Tears spring to my eyes. It was made for my eighteenth birthday.

I tend to think just of the good pieces of this story, but so many of those parts only happened in my head. The reality of it all is stuck between pages of my fantasy, thrown away with old memories, and buried deep in the sandy soil of Long Island, New York.

I know the story won't be the same without those bits.

I hope I tell it well.

I know one thing for sure: it all began with a question.

Do you know The Masens?

xXxXx

Until then, keep laughing, xxx, M


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